It's Not Over
by MereWhispers
Summary: 【on going】DHr. EWE? Things go horribly wrong between Draco and Hermione, making Draco, eventually, commit a sin Hermione deems unforgivable. But, that isn't where the tragedy ends. The consequences of his folly are way worse than what Draco could have ever imagined.
1. When You Were All There

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I'm putting _**Chimerical**_ on a hiatus, I'm sorry, I've run out of inspiration. This one's something I have halfway done, and so I'm gonna post it.

 **STORY DETAILS:** The title comes from the legendary _Stanfour_. Their 2008 album, _Wild Life_ , feautures _It's Not Over_. Listen to that goodness, if you haven't. The titles of the chapters, too, are bits picked up from the song.

The POVs will keep switching b/ Draco and Hermione. Preferably alternative. But. Let's _see_.

Further, this story is told witch each chapter featuring flashes from the past. They are in italics and are written in past tense. Don't get confused.

I have four chapters of this pre-written, and I'm predicting that I'd wind it up in the next four. Or five, maximum. No prologue, no epilogue - as of now. If this finishes off at the ninth chapter, though, I'll give it a short epilogue to make the total look better.

Read on!

* * *

 **When You Were All There**

* * *

Draco stifles a yawn behind clenched teeth. This meeting has gone _so_ beyond the limit of what makes things 'boring', that he's beginning to suspect some ploy of his father's in the name of a board meeting.

Like, see, he's planned a _gallant_ -ish dinner with his girlfriend of two years, tonight. And he has to ensure that everything at that restaurant is in order, before making _himself_ presentable. And, though his father doesn't _not_ support his relationship, exactly - after _two_ years, at least - Lucius _does_ tend to plant hurdles in his way when Draco is onto planning something big for the love of his life.

And, so, the meeting seems _so damn_ _much_ unnecessary that Draco's hardened, irritated, _glaring_ eyes are finding their way back to the other end of this table for twelve. His father hasn't _once_ looked his way. Should that arouse doubt in his head?

He isn't sure whether it _should_ , but it _does_ , nonetheless.

Having gotten enough, Draco abruptly clears his throat, smoothly cutting into his father's rants of _more campaigns equals more profit, gentlemen_ , and _Ricky Rogers is the very best person in the field_ , and _after two years, it's time he got what he deserves_ , and _I'm certain your votes would sum up to an inforned decision_. The members turn their shocked faces to gape at Draco. His father, however, lifts an eyebrow, as a compliment to that knowing quirk to his lips.

"Yes, dear, Malfoy Junior?" Lucius' voice floats. "Something of significance that you'd like to add?"

Draco bristles as Lucius' smirk grows. _That man!_ Recollecting all of the remaining semblance of professionality in him, Draco stands up and straightens the tails of his deep grey, Muggle-tailored, three-piece suit.

"Pardon me, gentlemen," his voice is chilled baritone that his girl always warns him against using in personal environment, lest he scare people away, "but I'd like to discuss something _highly significant_ with the Director, in _private_."

Flustered, people nod and begin to collect their files that are scattered all over the place. Draco sighs. He's going to blame his next action on his girlfriend having rubbed off way too much on him.

He waves a hand to halt their processes. "You could just excuse us, yeah?" The board members nod, darting a nervous glance at Malfoy _Sr_. "Shall we, father?"

Lucius purses his lips and gives a courteous tilt of head to the table before stepping out if the meeting room, hot on Draco heels.

Draco doesn't take a moment before charging into his father's face like a cannonball. "What on _earth_ is _wrong_ with you, father?" he shrieks, belatedly noticing the inconspicuous hand gestures that is father has made to trap the two of them in a bubble of Silencing charms. "I - I'd _told you_ that today is a _very important_ and - and _special_ day for me," he rages on, "I've _been_ telling you since past _week_ \- and _yet_ you've taken _no_ mercy and have called me to this - this _ridiculous_ meeting about - about fucking _Ricky Rogers_?" he yells, incredulous. " _Seriously_? These people _know_ the man, father, they could've taken a proper decision even _without_ someone shouting out for Rogers. _Hell_ , father, _Laura_ could've handled it; _you_ didn't have to come, too!"

Lucius sighs. "Alright, you have me there." He shakes his head, clearly holding back a grin at Draco's outrage. Draco cannot believe his _eyes_! "I _did_ plot against you sitting back and brooding in your wing, _which_ " - he raises a hand up, halting Draco from beginning another outraged rant; because _hell_ , but he has a _date_ to plan, why'd he freaking _brood_? - "I _know_ you'd have done, because there's _nothing_ you can actually do before nightfall. Excuse me, Draco, but I _care_ about this _special_ day of yours. I wasn't meaning to _actually_ harm your evening."

Draco sniffs. "I _highly_ doubt that."

Lucius chuckles, patting his shoulder. "I _wasn't_." He shakes his head, turning on his heels to advance back to the meeting room. "You may go on, take care of your private business," he speaks over his shoulder, "you are no longer required, here. Additionally, I'd rather you didn't give Laura that much credit, son. She's merely an _assistant_."

Draco keeps scowling at his father's retreating back until Lucius is out of sight. Then his shoulders slump in relief, and he lets out a dramatic, " _whoosh_ ," as he sighs.

He does a quick mental scan and decides that he's going to check up on the arrangements at the restaurant _after_ he drops by at the Ministry to see his girl. She's been keeping _awfully_ busy, these past days, and he hasn't even _seen_ the blasted witch since yesterday afternoon.

Taking a deep breath, he brushes his fingers over the embossment that is his wand through the layer of clothing - tucked in a pocket of his _shirt_ , as it is - and disapparates.

* * *

 _Topless sunbathing?_

 _Draco had_ never _understood Muggles and their awfully_ forward _cultures, despite spending that terrible month of his exile in their company - and he was fairly certain he never_ would _\- but he didn't have an idea that Muggle-born wizards - and_ witches _, in this case - tended to that_ Merlin forbid _stuff, too._

 _He gaped at the_ gorgeously _rounded globes of tanned flesh that surrounded those proud, dark pink,_ erect _nipples, before his eyes, for longer than what would have been civil. But then, sprawling practically_ naked _on a public seashore_ wasn't _civil, in the first place._

 _He cleared his throat, swallowing through its parchedness with difficulty. "Granger?" he croaked._

 _The asleep brunette stirred, causing her luscious breasts to_ jiggle _, and Draco -_

 _Well, he_ whimpered _._

 _And, then she screeched._

" _Merlin! Woman,_ shut up _, it's just_ me - _Draco!" he spoke over her high pitched shriek, leaning forward to grasp her wildly flailing hands._

 _Instead, he got a handful of something_ else _._

 _And_ that _shut up Hermione Granger with a resounding gasp._

 _He froze, too, looking between his hands - the one firmly gripping her right shoulder, and the other cupped around her left breast. Experimentally, he tightened both of his clutches, and -_

Just _held back a moan. Merlin, this woman has_ some _assets!_

 _Said woman, meanwhile, yelped and shoved him away. He toppled over his haunches, falling flat on his bum._

" _Ow!" He cringed, gingerly patting away sand from his deep blue, corduroy shorts._

" _What the_ hell _, Malfoy?!" Granger hissed, now having deftly draped a towel over her topless, upper body. What a shame._

" _Hello to you, too, Granger," he mumbled, getting up. "I'm here on Shacklebolt's orders. Apparently, the petition you and I had submitted for the same post has been seen to." He sighed, looking back at her dumbstruck face. "Well,_ hurry up _, Granger, he's waiting for us, there, with a position to give away."_

 _Granger's shocked face morphed into disgusted. "You filthy_ pig _," she snarled, wrapping the towel around her torso with expert hands, causing it to drop to her knees - shielding her little, flimsy, lacy,_ delectable _thong from his vision. "You - you think you can_ ogle _me, and - and freaking_ grope _me, and get_ away _with it?"_

 _He smirked, raking his eyes over the girl he'd seen after five, fat years, and smirked_ more _when she squirmed self-consciously. Then, he winked. "Yes."_

Her office is empty, but that doesn't bother Draco much. Hermione isn't a social butterfly, and there are very rare places he's ever seen her wandering off to.

Making a list, he decides to begin his search from the Ministry Cafeteria.

The walk up to that area is pretty long from Hermione's office. Draco smiles and tilts his head at people he passes on the way. His father's Potions' business has _soared_ after the bumpy ride it dealt with during the war. And now, being 'Malfoy Jr.', the obvious and only precedent to the Director's chair at _Felicis Potions_ , has come to mean something good. Being _Draco Malfoy_ has come to mean something good.

He smiles at his mental musings, until a voice takes him by surprise -

"Long time, no see, _Malfoy Junior_?"

Draco stops and looks over his shoulder with a frown. His face breaks out into the biggest grin possible when he finds Pansy Parkinson waving at him.

"Pans!" he exclaims, rushing back to envelope his longtime companion - uh, _girlfriend_ , too, technically, but that is _embarrassing_ and so they never mention it - in a warm hug. "How've you _been_? How's Rio?"

The witch giggles at his enthusiasm, pulling away to give him an affectionate peck on the cheek. Then she smiles. "I'm _awesome_ , Draco, and Rio is _way_ better than what people think it to be!"

He grins at her. " _That_ good, huh?" He wiggles his eyebrows, suggestively. Then, leaning closer to her, he says in a conspiratorial whisper, "what's the _score_?"

Blushing scarlet, Pansy whacks his head upside. " _Zero_ , you pervert! A _month_ , and you're asking me the _score_?" she scolds him, shaking her head in disappointment.

He shrugs. "You went there to have a change of breath. Wasn't _that_ far-fetched from where I see it," he cheekily retorts.

Pansy rolls her eyes, sending a sideways glance to the elevator he has just stepped out of. "Uh, Draco, I know we've got to catch up, and Merlin knows how bad I've _missed_ you and Daph, but I'm in a hurry and have to run…" She suddenly pauses, eyes wide and guilt all over her face. "How's _Granger_?"

Draco's face falls from mischief to utter happiness "She's the _best_ , bloody thing in my life, Pans."

Pansy breathes out, as if in relief. "That is - _beautiful_. Because the sort of _explosive_ people you two are? I _always_ fear you'd blast off."

Draco smiles at that. "You're becoming softer by the day, woman. Something you gotta tell me?"

Pansy's face turns alarmed. "T - _tell_ you?" She chuckles, nervously. "Nothing _specific_ , Drake, just the… _overall account_ of my trip. Why d'you ask?"

Draco grows suspicious at _this_. Pansy's _clearly_ hiding something. And, from the looks of it, he's gonna wager a 'love-affair' that she worries he'd not approve of.

"Um - I, uh, have some… _stuff_ ,"she hurriedly says, looking back at the elevator, "to take care of at - _ah_ , the - the _Auror Office_. See you later?"

His eyes narrowed, Draco has _just_ nodded before Pansy rushes off to the epic elevator belonging to the Ministry of Magic.

Shaking his head at her antics, Draco rolls his shoulders back and continues on his way down to the cafeteria.

* * *

" _But, father, that Ministry job would have - "_

" _Not been of any use to_ me _," Lucius cut Draco's protests off. "Think about it, Draco. Your input at Felicis Potions is going to do_ wonders _to our success!"_

 _Draco looked at his mother, pinning her under the most pleading gaze he could muster._

" _No, Draco," Narcissa said, calmly. "The Ministry has already done a lot for us. Harry Potter has pushed far too many buttons for the sake our family in return of our_ barely there _favors in the war. We cannot risk all_ that _by questioning the Minister's decision."_

 _Draco groaned in agony. "I have_ every right _, and_ every _damning_ qualification _that falls in the job description!" he cried out, frustrated out of his wits. "Granger got the job_ only _because she's a freaking_ hero _of the war, and I'm - I'm - "_

 _Lucius cleared his throat, causing Draco to look at him. "Firstly, check your_ language _, son, you're a_ Malfoy _with a reputation to uphold," he said, his voice a menacingly cool baritone. "Secondly, said reputation isn't going anywhere - if not_ gratifying _\- with you taking up the post of CEO at_ Felicis Potions _."_

" _And," Narcissa added, "not to forget the benefit your involvement is going to cause to the company, as your father has already told you. You've been a prodigy at Potions, Draco, and it's about time you put that to use."_

 _Draco sighed._

 _Would they understand he wasn't_ _actually moaning because he lost his chance at being an employee to a new fucking department at the Ministry? Would they understand that he was more than happy to join_ Felicis Potions _?_

 _Because, Salazar knew, he_ was _. And he was very much aware how this involvement was_ way _better than a petty, Ministry job._

 _He wasn't upset because of_ that _, no. He was upset because of_ Hermione Granger _. He'd lost the job to_ Hermione Granger _._

 _Would they_ ever _understand that he'd come second to_ Hermione Granger, again _?_

* * *

Draco smiles at the enigmatic image she makes when she's telling a story. He laughs with Ginny Weasley when Hermione's face comes out of her mug with a Butterbeer moustache.

Then he pushes the glass door open and all the voices from inside filter out. He smiles broadly when he catches on _her_ voice overpowering all others as it falls into his ears.

" **...and such a righteous** _**git**_ **, I tell you!** "

His interest piques. Frowning in concentration - and telling his conscience to _go, shove it!_ \- he slides into a corner booth, about five tables away from Hermione and her redheaded best friend, and _listens_.

" **...** _ **really**_ **, Gin, I** _ **swear**_ **to** _ **God**_ **, I** _ **regret**_ **putting in that sodding petition for this job! I won't have even** _ **met**_ **him, in the first place, had I not done that!** "

Draco's heart skips a beat. Who the fuck is she _talking_ about?

" **Oh, come** _ **on**_ **, 'Mione, you** _ **love**_ **-** "

" **No, Gin, I** _ **don't**_ **! I mean, not** _ **anymore**_."

Draco draws a sharp breath. She cannot _possibly_ be talking about _him_ , can she? _Stop it, you moron, she_ _ **loves**_ _you!_ he mentally chides himself.

" **Hermione**!" Ginny gasps.

" **No, Ginny, I'm serious. I mean, than sodden, blonde git is following me** _ **everywhere**_ **!** "

Draco stops breathing. Shit, she _is_ talking about him…

" **Hermione, please -** "

" _ **Hear**_ **me out, Ginny! That - that** _ **bastard**_ **, that** _ **clingy**_ _**idiot**_ **, I tell you… So we** _ **do**_ **have a** _ **reason**_ **to stick close. But that doesn't give him rights to pop out of** _ **thin air**_ **\- literally, too - in my office, as and when his bloody,** _ **blackened**_ **heart desires!** "

Draco's heart clenches _painfully_ in his chest. This is _so_ not happening…

" **What do you -** "

" **Don't even get me** _ **started**_ **, Ginny. I so** _ **regret**_ **smiling at him that first time I did!** "

The back of his eyes prickle, and he shuts them with a sigh of agony.

" **I mean, fine so he** _ **is**_ **an important part of my life, but - come** _**on**_ **, I've got** _ **more**_ **important things to do than blink and nod at all the** _ **nuisance**_ **he spews! I've got a life that** _ **so doesn't**_ **involve him!** "

 _But I haven't._ Draco cannot begin to _decide_ how this _feels_. Actually, no - it feels like getting _stabbed_ by a fucking _dagger_ , is how it feels!

" **Hermione, that's enough, okay? I - I guess you should stop -** "

" **No, Gin,** _ **listen**_ **! He's went as far asking me if I was free tonight.** _ **Tonight**_ **? I mean,** _ **damn**_ **, but I'm not his personal** _**elf**_ **\- to be at his disposal as and when he bloody pleases! And we met - what -** _ **yesterday**_ **? Isn't that** _ **enough**_ **?** "

Holding back the pathetically treacherous tears that are filling up behind his shut eyelids, Draco tries - in vain - to swallow that freakishly enormous _lump_ in his throat. Grunting in defeat, he takes in a long, cleansing breath and gets up.

He doesn't need to hear more to be certain that ring he's kept safe in his bedside drawer for the past week needs to be set on fire before tonight.

A tear trails down his cheek despite his rapidly blinking eyelids as he walks out of the Ministry Building.

* * *

 _...thoughts?_

 _xo, Aishwarya!_


	2. The Situation Changed

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I've been too busy with editing, and re-editing, then re-re-editing, before giving it a final brush-up, after getting it polished by a WONDERFUL ( _swoons_ ) beta - and finally touching it up with HTML formatting - my entry for the HP-DRIZZLE fest, or else I'd have posted this earlier. Anybody participating in that fest, by the way?

Gallons of _THANK YOU_ to all of you for the reviews, favorites and follows. A guest complementedme with a, "you have a way with words," and I've been dancing about in clouds, ever since. _JKSHDBECJK_ \- _THANK YOU, DEAR GUEST!_

Rest, I've mentioned _Goo Goo Dolls'_ number _Iris_ , here, simply because I was listening to it. And also because it fits into the timeline, having been released in 1998.

PS. **Happy 15th August, fellow Indians! _Jai Hind!_**

This one's shorter, but enough to blow the fuse off your brain. Hermione's POV, y'all

* * *

 **2: The Situation Changed**

* * *

Meeting Ginny for lunches is _such_ a _colossal_ stress relief to Hermione that she cannot _begin_ to describe. Not even to _Ginny_ , herself.

"No, but, that prat _is_ going to take up their offer, right? If he gets voted for, that is."

Hermione sighs. "I honestly _don't know_ , Gin. I'll ask Draco." She pauses, groaning miserably. "Not that _that_ is going to be of any help."

Ginny chuckles, taking a sip from her Butterbeer. "Why? Draco doesn't like to talk about business with you?"

Hermione smiles, tiredly. "Yes, and no. I mean, that _is_ true, at times, yes. But that isn't the _reason_ why I think he won't tell me about this," she says, glumly. "Draco's not exactly taking any _interest_ with this whole plan of advertising that's gotten his father so excited. I talked to Lucius, day before yesterday. Draco's been throwing a tantrum, this entire week, and not attending any meetings until they're _board_ meetings."

Ginny shrugs. "I think it's fair. He's the Head Potioneer of the firm, the topmost Potioneer - after Slughorn, of course - of our time, today," she says, scooping up a spoonful of her chicken soup. "I think he's _earned_ the right to throw a tantrum."

Hermione chuckles, rolling her eyes. "And what's new? You're _again_ taking _his_ side!" Ginny grins cheekily, to which Hermione harrumphs. "No, _really_ , Gin, he's not taking this seriously, _at all_. Lucius asked me about Rogers because he knows that Rogers is a - well, _what he is_ ," Hermione adds in a whisper, not really wanting to call the Head of her Department a 'squib' - in the _Ministry Cafeteria_ , no less - and inviting unnecessary trouble on herself. "Apparently, Lucius shares Shacklebolt's line of thinking. You know, that Muggles have a better knowledge of advertising?"

Ginny hums thoughtfully. "Does Papa Malfoy know, though, what mess he's about to deal with if Rogers joins him?" she asks with a shit-eating grin.

Hermione chuckles. "I tried warning him, yes, but…" She sips up a hefty mouthful of her vegan steak. "I don't think Lucius won't be able to deal with whatever color Rogers flashes him."

"Talking of, I heard people gossiping about how he's been pressuring you guys about agreeing to his layouts of redecorating your Department." Ginny grimaces, as if appalled at the prospect. "How far's that true?"

Hermione scowls, darkly. "He's an _absolute_ ass, and a damning _idiot_ ," she states, her voice nearing a growl. "His ideas - the ones _not_ concerning advertisement - are utter _shit_ , that we can't protest against. Because, guess what? He's a patient of A-class self-obsession, and…" She sighs, shaking her head as frustration overpowers her senses. "He's such a righteous _git_ , I tell you!" she finishes, sniffing petulantly.

Ginny rolls her eyes. "I didn't mean for you to _explode_ , 'Mione, _relax_ ," she says in a futile attempt to calm the brunette.

"No, _really_ , Gin, I _swear_ to _God_ , I _regret_ putting in that sodding petition for this job! I won't have even _met_ him, in the first place, had I not done that!" Hermione continues, heatedly.

Ginny scoffs. "Oh, come _on_ , 'Mione, you _love_ \- "

"No, Gin, I _don't_! I mean, not _anymore_ ," Hermione murmurs, feeling oddly guilty about bad-mouthing this job that she'd, once, wanted with all her might.

"Hermione!" Ginny gasps, obviously not expecting such a blatant confession from her.

"No, Ginny, I'm serious. I mean, than sodden, blonde git is following me _everywhere_!" Hermione fumes on, savagely taking a huge gulp from her Butterbeer mug.

"Hermione, please - "

" _Hear_ me out, Ginny!" Hermione cuts the redhead, because she _needs_ to let all this out. "That - that _bastard_ , that _clingy_ _idiot_ ," she barks, venomously, "I tell you… So we _do_ have a _reason_ to stick close. But that doesn't give him rights to pop out of _thin air_ \- literally, too - in my office, as and when his bloody, _blackened_ heart desires!"

"What do you - "

"Don't even get me _started_ , Ginny," Hermione cuts her, again. "I so _regret_ smiling at him that first time I did!"

She whimpers, recalling the very first time she'd met the Head of the Department of Advertisement of the British Ministry of Magic, and the way she'd been hell bent on impressing the shit out of him. Now, though, she _regrets_. _Man_ , does she _regret_!

"I mean, fine so he _is_ an important part of my life, but - come _on_ " - her voice has risen up many debacles, and she's probably attracting attention by now, but _she cannot care less_ \- "I've got _more_ important things to do than blink and nod at all the _nuisance_ he spews! I've got a life that _so doesn't_ involve him!" she finishes, guiltily thinking of Draco's crestfallen face when she is made to cancel their nights out together, because her bloody _boss_ has occupied the hell out of her time!

"Hermione, that's enough, okay?" Ginny murmurs, her eyes flicking over to other tables. "I - I guess you should stop - "

But Hermione doesn't _want to_. "No, Gin, _listen_!" she urgently shushes the younger witch. "He's went as far asking me if I was free tonight. _Tonight_? I mean, _damn_ , but I'm not his personal _elf_ \- to be at his disposal as and when he bloody pleases! And we met, what - _yesterday_? Isn't that _enough_?"

Ginny frowns. "Tonight? But, don't you have - "

"The date Draco's been bugging me about for a _week_?" Hermione interrupts. "Yes, I do, and _that_ is why I've turned that damned order down!"

"That's like my Gryffindor lioness!" Ginny cheers, clinking her Butterbeer glass with Hermione's, no doubt grateful that Hermione's stopped causing people to turn their heads to their table.

Hermione smiles at the thought, though her mind has already wandered off to all the beautiful expectations she has from tonight.

* * *

 _The door to her office was literally being_ hammered _at. Narrowing her eyes, Hermione shot out a snarling, "_ Enter _!"_

 _Draco Malfoy's blonde hair, squinting eyes, and flushed face were revealed as the door rattled on its hinges._

" _Malfoy," Hermione sneered. "I was wondering when you'd show up."_

 _He barred his teeth, upper lip curling in fury. "Don't_ play _with me, Granger!" he hissed, making Hermione's firm, fearlessfront_ stutter _before she strapped it back into place. " I'm having to deal with my father's company because_ you _snatched away the_ only _job they'd have given me at the Ministry! This - this_ chair _you're seated on? I was_ equally _deserving of it! In fact, guess what? I deserved this position of Mascot_ more _than you did! I was - I was a bloody_ Death Eater _,_ _Granger, and - "_

" _-_ and _what would portray the Ministry's open-mindedness better than an ex-Death Eater being their ambassador?" she sharply,_ sarcastically _interjected, and he shut his mouth._

"Yes _," he hissed, then, through grounded teeth. "That_ is _why I'm a better choice, you bitch, because that concept makes_ more _sense than a_ Muggle-born _getting - "_

" _Malfoy!" she exclaimed, getting up with clenched fists. "Do you even_ know _what advertising is_ about _?"_

 _He scoffed, obviously framing an_ even _foolish response to her rhetoric question, but she beat it to him._

" _No, Malfoy, don't answer that, because you_ don't _!" she snarled. "This is a_ new _department where they need_ experienced _people, you_ idiot _! Ricky Rogers is the Head because he freaking_ knows _great deal about advertising. This isn't about being_ Death Eater _, or_ Muggle-born _, or - or squib!"_

 _She immediately panicked when his eyes narrowed. She should've caught her tongue at 'squib'._

"Squib _?" Malfoy asked, raising a curious eyebrow._

 _Hermione signed. Half of the Ministry knew, anyway, what harm_ could _Malfoy cause? "Ricky Rogers - Head of the Department of Advertisement? He's a squib, who's been leading a Muggle life since he was ten."_

 _Malfoy's eyes widened. "He's -_ damn _!"_

 _Hermione shrugged, tucking a curl behind her ear as she flopped back into her chair. "If you're quite done with that dramatic tirade you came here for, you're welcome to leave," she said, picking up the letter they'd received from the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic._

 _When she didn't hear any sounds for the next few moments, she looked up to find him gone._

* * *

Hermione cannot quite read - and _comprehend_ \- the obvious lines of distress on Lucius Malfoy's forehead, when she steps through the fireplace of the Malfoy Manor, later that day.

"Good evening, Mister Malfoy," she chirpily whishes the old wizard before making her way towards the gigantic staircase, she knows, leads up to Draco's wing.

She silently climbs up, humming a verse of Goo Goo Dolls' _Iris_ to herself.

She steps into the sitting room, where the staircase ends, and looks around with a smile. Draco hasn't yet changed the décor, here, from the mauve and beige neutrals that she had switched the previous - plum burgundy and black - color scheme with, on Christmas, which was two months back. _These_ colors weren't much appropriate, either, but, because _Draco_ had insisted, then, that the darker shades were 'his thing' - which was, without a doubt, meant to prevent her from replacing those _hideous_ colors - she'd stood her ground, too, and claimed the pastels to have been _her_ thing.

Which they _are_ , she reflects, looking at how she's painted the entirety of her flat in the softest of peach color she could find.

She sighs. They quarrel over _tiniest_ of things, don't they?

Smiling to herself, she crosses his study - absently noticing how he's deposited his jacket haphazardly over a lamp hung on one of the bookshelves.

"When everything feels like the movies," she sings to herself, "yeah, you _bleed_ , just to know you're - "

She stutters to a stop and strains her ears. Was that a _feminine_ voice she just heard?

Heart thumping in her chest, she races through the study - straight up to the door of Draco's bedroom.

She's just about to push at it, when -

"...no, are you _absolutely_ sure, sir?" a meek, _scared_ , very _much_ feminine voice falls into her ears.

Hermione's breath falters. What on _earth_?

"Absolutely, Laura. Do you need me to seal it with a fucking _Unbreakable Vow_?" Draco's sarcastic drawl - and was that a _drunken_ slur she caught? - pierces through her senses.

 _Laura_. Laura Caterina, Lucius Malfoy's _very_ young, and _very_ uptight assistant is with Draco, in his _bedroom_? Something tells Hermione that this isn't a business meeting happening, in there.

Gathering her courage, and not waiting to _eavesdrop_ any further, Hermione pushes the door open, and -

Gasps.

Draco's looks her in eye from his position beneath a half-naked Laura Caterina, his gaze _bored_. "No one taught you how to _knock_?" he snaps, harshly, making a gaping Hermione stumble a few steps back.

"D - D - Draco… wh - _what_ …" she sputters, a hand clutching fiercely at her chest, right above her heart, while she blindly reaches behind herself for something to lean on with the other.

Draco rolls his eyes, sweeping his hands over the frozen blonde's naked waist whose back is to Hermione, and -

And _so_ she can freaking _see_ when he reaches with a hand to unclasp the strapless bra of the girl straddling him.

" _Draco_!" Hermione shrieks, tears of agony rolling down her cheeks as he forces Laura's body down to latch onto her nipple. " _Oh, God_ \- Draco, _no_! I… _what_ \- don't - don't - _stop it_!" Hermione whimpers, sliding down the wall she had leant against.

Letting out an exasperated singh, Draco takes the blonde witch off his shirtless body and dumps her in a pool of sheets which she swiftly covers her modesty up with. Then he sits up, and the calm, cold nonchalance in his eyes has been replaced by raging anger and fierce _hatred_. But Hermione can still recognize, _distinctly_ , that distinct redness that has rimmed his eyes.

"You - you're _drunk_ ," she breathes out, still gasping for breath over the painful weight that has settled over her chest.

"Drunk," he retorts, some very, very misplaced _hurt_ skimming in his eyes for a moment, "but not _stupid_."

Hermione flinches.

"What are you doing _here_?" he snarls, glaring at her huddled form from beneath the fringe of white-blonde hair that she's spent so many hours on so many days of her life, rifting her fingers through.

"Y - you'd said to come here after - after my shift was o - over," she stammers between hiccups, "a - and - "

" _Had_ I?" he hisses, eyes narrowed to slits. "Well, my bad. You see, I hadn't known about the _depth_ " - he spits with malice - "of your dear _feelings_ for me, before."

Frowning, Hermione rises on shaky legs. "Wh - what are you talking - "

"What am I talking about?" he asks, furiously. "I'm talking about _your_ fucking _hypocrisy_ , Hermione Granger!" he yells. "I - I overheard your conversation with Ginny Weasley," he finishes, bitterly, as if that explains this devastating _tornado_ that has suddenly gotten caught in their relationship.

Hermione's frown deepens. So he heard them. So _what_?

He smirks, humorlessly, _sardonically_. "Yeah, I _had_. And you know what else did I do? I _thanked Merlin_ that I had. Saved me from making a fool of myself, it did. Proposing to a witch who's been playing with my heart for so bloody _long._ " He shakes his head. "Thank _Salazar_ , I heard you."

This time, the hurt that fills up his eyes _stays_. Hermione sits frozen on the ground.

 _Propose_? He was going to propose to her?

Her body shakes, vehemently, as a fresh course assaults her tear-ducts. She doesn't _know_ what's happened - what sort of _Imperio_ has been cast upon her Draco that he's gotten so many misconceptions - _ridiculous_ _presumptions_ \- wound about his brain.

She drops her face into her palms, taking deep breaths to gather her senses before she can investigate if there's _really_ something that is magically wrong about this situation.

"Draco - "

"We're over, Granger," his voice cuts her, and her head snaps up. He's trailing his fingers over the curve of a visibly horrified Laura's hip, eyes focussed on some far away spot in space.

Hermione shuts her eyes… and the world blackens.

* * *

 _Hey - hey - hey - DON'T MURDER ME! I did place this in the Romance/Drama genre!_

 **Laura Caterina** _'s an odd name, I know, but I wanted to drag in a wierd name for a pure-blood, like JK does. And_ **Caterina** _, instead of_ **Katrina** _, because -_ **Weasley** _instead of_ **Wesley** _. So..._

 _Not that I'm trying to copy the queen! I just wanted a dash of JK-ness. But... Whatever._

 _Kindly review!_

 _xo,_

 _Aishwarya!_


	3. Now That Storm Has Gone

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Sorry, dear lovely readers, I'm late. I'm down with fluu, dehydrated to the extent that I can't stand straight, on my own, for more than ten minutes. Pray for my soul. *sigh*

So... One place I'm mostly not away from, is tumblr. Catch me there if it's more than a week. **i-heart-hogwarts** , would be me.

Now, about this, I'm sorry I forgot to clarify the previous time - Draco is being referred to as 'Malfoy Junior', because he's the sole heir to Lucius Malfoy's position at the Head of their family Potions' firm.

Read on... it's gonna get darker, from now on.

* * *

 **3: Now That Storm Has Gone**

* * *

Draco looks away from the unconscious brunette as tears blur his vision. For some unfathomable reason, it feels as if he's overdone it. It's ridiculous, of course, because he knows how _none_ of this is actually going to affect her, but -

His gaze travels back to Hermione's slackened body and splotchy, red face. Is she _faking_ all of it?

A frown settles on Draco's forehead. Is it even _possible_ to fake unconsciousness?

His brain - which he'd already muddled up quite enough with the three bottles of firewhiskey he'd emptied - gets even foggier with this thought. Why is she behaving like _this_?

Suddenly, he gets up and grabs his wand from the side-table. Walking up to the love of his life on shaky legs, he points his piece of Hawthorn at her. " _Somno_ _Exsuscitem_ ," he murmurs, his voice thick with anticipation.

A second passes. Then two. Then five, ten, thirty - a minute.

"I - is she… _actually_ …?"

Draco starts at the squeak, just remembering the presence of a third person in the room.

He slumps on the floor next to Hermione, legs crossed and elbows rested on his knees, as he drops his face into his palms. "Yes," he grunts into his hands, "she really _is_."

* * *

" _You've_ got _to be kidding me!" Draco exclaimed as soon as he crossed the threshold to the exclusive -_ VIP _\- section of_ Blends and Some _. "What on earth are_ you _here for?"_

 _Hermione Granger's head whipped around to look at him, eyes wide, before her tensed posture slumped and she let out a suffering groan. "_ Of course _, I'll bump into_ you _, today!" she muttered, bitterly. "The_ only _day of the week when I'm_ really _not pissed at my boss, and the git of the century honours me by his presence to_ destroy _my delicate mood - "_

" _Is that so?" Draco snapped, scowling. "You'd blame this on_ me _, Granger? Just for your information, it is_ me _who's better fitting to be here, not - "_

"What _?" Granger practically shrieked. "You're_ better fitting _\- for_ Merlin's sake _, Malfoy,_ stop _with this rant of how you deserve better, and I'm snatching away all of it!"_

" _Not that it it's_ not _true," Draco retorted, acidly, "but I wasn't referring to the_ job _, this once. Not in_ that _sense, at least. What I_ meant _," he sneered, "is that I'm a_ Potioneer _\- at a company which is the_ best _in the entire Wizarding Britain, not to forget - "_

" _And as if," the brunette bitch cut him,_ again _, "I have_ all day _to listen to your damning_ job _, yeah?"_

 _Draco bristled. "_ This _is the bloody place where all my supplies come from!" he yelled, taking complete benefit of the seclusion of this particular wing of the store. "And_ this" _\- he gestured about them - "is the_ VIP section _, where all the_ selective _stuff comes from." He looked away from her frowning face, and examined his nails. "And_ hence, _you're out of place."_

" _Hardly," she scoffed, turning away and bending to scoop up something from the lower shelves, and -_

 _Draco's breath hitched._

 _The curve of her arse was_ such _a_ gorgeous _, heart-shaped,_ plump _beauty, that he swore he could spend his lazy afternoons - the ones he had become used to spend by lounging about in a delirious state in his office - by enjoying merely the_ view _if he got a picture of this heart-shaped arse, and - and if he got to touch, oh,_ if _he_ ever _got to_ touch _, he would squeeze and_ squeeze _and - and_ knead _and bloody_ molest _the_ fuck _out of -_

" _Malfoy?" Clicking fingers before his face brought Draco back._

 _Coughing violently, Draco turned away from a thoroughly confused Granger. "What?" he coughed._

" _Uh, I - are you_ okay _?" Granger's voice sounded so_ lost _, that he would have laughed his butt off at its expense, if he weren't trying to adjust his_ very _tented trousers, at the moment._

" _I - I'm_ fine _, Granger," he spat back._

" _O - kay," she dragged out, not sounding convinced. "I was showing you the canisters of paint that I've come to purchase, so that you - "_

" _Yes, yes, I get it," he hurriedly interrupted, limping out of the small, confined VIP section._

* * *

Draco swears under his breath as soon as he reaches the fifth step from the bottom, down the staircase of his wing, and spots his parents in the sitting room. They're waiting for him, he knows, because they never spend time in this main sitting room, this late at night. And he has a hunch that they're here because Caterina hasn't been a good actress.

Draco swears again. If they're here _now_ , it is quite a possibility that at least _one_ of them was here when Hermione came. _Shit_.

He tries to, subtly, slink back into the shadows that fall over till the fourth step from the bottom, but realises that he hasn't been subtle _enough_ when his pacing mother's sharp gaze snaps up to meet his. She stops in her tracks.

"Draco," she says, icily. "How _thoughtful_ of you to _finally_ show us your face."

Gulping, Draco runs a hand over his face, the other over his hair, and then both of them over his badly crumpled shirt.

Then he flits down the rest of the stairs.

"You know," Narcissa begins in a snappy tone, "when I was five months pregnant with you, Bellatrix - "

" _Cissa_ ," Lucius cuts in, giving her a meaningful look from his position on the recliner.

Narcissa resumes her pacing.

"And _you_ ," Lucius continues, gazing at Draco with an expressionless face, "a word?"

Draco gives a curt nod before walking over to the sofa his father has pointed at. "Yes, father?"

Lucius sighs, straightening, before he leans a little towards Draco. "What's going on, Draco?"

Tears prickle at the back of his eyes, and Draco looks resolutely away from his father's searching gaze. "I don't understand what you're talking about, father."

"Ha!" Narcissa exclaims, throwing her hands up, incredulously. " _Of course_ , you don't! And you _obviously_ don't know anything about those suddenly cancelled plans of yours, either, that you'd been irritating your father and I, for a _week_!"

Draco looks at the crackling logs in the fireplace. "Something's gone wrong," he mumbles, quietly.

Narcissa scoffs, ready to speak something, when Lucius raises a calm hand to stop her. " _Wrong?_ What has?" he calmly asks.

Draco sighs and shakes his head. "Something _awful_ , father. But I'm not ready to tell you about it, yet."

"Oh, _aren't_ you?" his mother's sarcastic, hissed retort pushes his held back emotions further, and he finds it impossible to talk past the lump in his throat.

Lucius hums, thoughtfully. "What was _Laura_ here for, Draco?"

Draco stiffens. His father knows him _far_ too well for his liking. He wouldn't be too surprised if Lucius is found to have _already_ figured Draco's situation out.

"Yes, that too," Narcissa adds, now a more concerned frown etched across her face, contrary to the earlier disappointment.

"I - I had something to - to _discuss_ ," Draco lies, feeling almost _stunned_ at how difficult it is being, "something ab - about Ricky Rogers."

Narcissa snorts. " _Oh_? And that explains her smudged mascara," she spits, sarcastically, _poisonously,_ "and - and all the _bruises_ on her neck and - "

"Cissy, _please_ ," Lucius cuts in, sounding _terribly_ exasperated. Then he looks at Draco with conflict in his eyes. "And what happened with Miss Granger?"

Draco sucks in a sharp breath. " _What_ \- I don't…" He trails off as his father sighs, shaking his head in disappointment. _That_ action hits home for Draco, and he's suddenly _tired_. "She _lied_ , father."

Narcissa's choked exhale is loud in the silence that follows Draco's words. " _What_?" she hisses, shocked. " _Lied_? Whatever does that _mean_ , Draco?"

The lump in his throat grows _exponentially_ , and Draco has to swallow, _repeatedly_ , to clear a wide enough fraction of the passage to speak. "Sh - she just… about ou - ou - our _relationship_ ," he manages, ending up with a sob.

"Her _feelings_ , you mean?" Lucius questions, quietly. "Her involvement with you?"

Draco nods, wordlessly, biting hard on his lower lip to hold back the tremors that'd be shaking it if he doesn't.

"How did you figure?" Narcissa asks, her voice _really_ tiny.

"She and Ginny Weasley were talking about it," he snarls, anger coursing through his veins as his mind replays the afternoon.

" _Oh_ , Merlin," Lucius breathes out. "And? Did she say something in her defence?"

Draco blinks, looking at his father strangely. "What _she_ said? I - I didn't _confront_ her, father, what are you _talking_ about?"

Narcissa drops down on the couch, next to Lucius, and clutches desperately on the wizard's hand as she looks at Draco with _wide_ uncertainty in her eyes. "Are you _serious_ , Draco?"

Numbly, Draco nods. What is the big deal if he didn't? He didn't want to hear the obvious lies she'd have spouted - the blatant _excuses_ she'd have made. He didn't want to end up being an _absolute fool_ , at the end of this all, by getting lured by her innocence and believing her _lies_.

"Oh, son, what were you _thinking_?" Lucius snaps, groaning mildly as Narcissa clicks her tongue.

"I was… father, I didn't want to make a fool of myself!" Draco defends himself, jumping to his feet. "Because, _obviously_ \- "

"What was Caterina doing here, _again_ , Draco?" his mother cuts in, eyes narrowed.

Draco sighs. He'd have to tell them, sooner or later. "I'm courting her, from this day on."

Narcissa raises from her seat with a gasp. "You _what_?"

"Narcissa - "

"No, Lucius, _enough_ of this _calming down_!" she snaps. "This boy has _lost_ his _mind_ , and that is that!" Then she takes a breath and turns on her heels. Halfway to the staircase leading up to hers and his father's wing in the manor, she looks at Draco, over her shoulder. "I'm leaving off for Andromeda's. Contact me when you've cleared this mess," she sneers before walking off.

Draco's desperate gaze finds his father's crestfallen face.

"You better make a quick job of clearing it," Lucius grumbles.

* * *

 _Draco rolled back his shoulders. Fucking_ advertisement _was going to end his life!_

 _Then he let his imagination swim._

 _What would it have been like if_ he _would've been made Senior Analyst of the Advertisement Department at the Ministry?_ This _nuisance wouldn't have been taking place, for one._

 _Then he recalled his conversation with Granger about the Head of Department being a_ squib _, and took comfort from the fact that he wasn't working under_ him _\- the least he could do in the name of restoring the Malfoy integrity, post war, was maintaining their prime pride - the refined magic that flowed in their blood - by refraining from working under a magic-less_ squib _._

 _But, then, he started recalling other,_ really _uncalled for things associated with one Hermione Granger, and - the heart-shaped curve that was her ass, and the pink,_ deep _pink points that were her nipples, atop those perfect,_ honey-gold _mounds, and -_

And _Draco cleared his throat, and stepped into his father's study, where the older wizard was engaged in a ferocious discussions with a certain brunette witch that Draco didn't_ actually _lust after. Just slightly._ Very _slightly_.

" _...and the glory_ \- ah _, Draco, you're here!" his father exclaimed, cutting himself off, as their eyes met._

" _Good evening, father," Draco intoned, tilting his head towards him before giving an almost subtle glare to Hermione Granger. "Granger," he deadpanned when she met his gaze head on._

" _Draco." Granger nodded before quickly focussing back on the myriad of papers spread on the table between her and Lucius._

 _Draco sauntered in and dropped in the chair next to hers. "Yes, father," he breathed out, absentmindedly adjusting his sapphire cufflinks. "What did you want to discuss?"_

 _Lucius, meanwhile, shuffled through the stack of, actually,_ ancient _looking parchments placed before him to pull one out and forward it to Draco._

 _Draco's brows shot up in alarm as he mechanically extracted the sheet from his father's hand. Then he glanced at the text, and his mouth fell open, as well. Lucius had handed over to him the records of the market and public value that_ Felicis Potions _held, in the year 1972._

" _We were at the_ top _, Draco,"Lucius drawled, bitterness evident in his tone. "The_ Ministry _couldn't afford things that we had involved in our campaigns. Miss Granger?"_

 _Granger nodded, mouth twisted in evident reluctance at having to agree to the prowess of the business that the Malfoy family had once held. "That_ is _true, Draco," she said, then, flipping through a tattered looking journal. "Even the Ministry of Magic didn't take the measures that were taken by your father's company, and this is_ despite _the obvious benefit that the Ministry had, just because."_

" _So," Draco mumbled, cocking an eyebrow at his father, "Granger, here, is going to play espionage and bring out the Ministry's secrets of advertisement for us?"_

 _Granger chokes on a cough, reaching forward to grab the goblet of water placed on Lucius' study, while Lucius himself merely chuckles._

" _Stop being cute, Draco, it doesn't suit you." Lucius cleared his throat, giving a tiny smile to a_ really _flustered Hermione. "Miss Granger is merely going to_ supervise _our advertising strategies. Effectively, for a_ year _, right now."_

* * *

 ** _Somno_ **_**Exsuscitem** means, simply, 'awaken' in Latin. (At least that's what Google Translate says.) I've used it merely to signify that Draco's suspecting Hermione and so he tries a spell that she wont know to repel._

 _So... Review, please! xo!_

 _Aishwarya._


	4. I Was Loving Being Nowhere

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** So... A rude, offending, **pathetically aimed** jibe at my Nationality is _NOT_ what I look forward to in the reviews. Dear guest reviewer, I'm not going to stoop as low as you and bad-mouth you back because of your comment, but - obviously - I'd request you to keep your sorry arse **_AWAY_** from my stories, in future. PS. I'm _**Indian**_ , yes, proudly so. You don't know _HALF_ about the customs, the cultures that maks up my country! I'm no one to destroy your filthy, stinking _dreamland_ by telling you the _**TRUTH**_ about females ( INCLUDING ME) of my country, but I'd just like to remind you, here, that pathetic women, lacking in self-respect, are not the same as females who are in _love_ with men, and are SO **_shocked_** \- broken - at the first sign of betrayal by them that they are not really left _lucid_ enough to sort out the exact _**REACTION**_ the love of their lives deserve.

Just saying. Grow up. Liberate your filthy, fucking head!

Here's a note of thanks to **MLeighW** , dear, who probably saw this **awfully out of place** review - among some other over-zealous warnings about Hermione turning out pathetic - and PMed me a bit of consolation out of her heart's goodness. Honestly, it's not THAT difficult to be unbiased; being human is easier than leading herds of misanthropes.

* * *

 **4: I Was Loving Being Nowhere**

* * *

Hermione's brow furrows, left hand stirs, she's not _quite_ asleep, she decides – but her head feels _really_ heavy, and there are voices – _loud_ voices – echoing in retrospect and she cannot figure out _how_ to open her eyes, because her eyelids are _so damn heavy_ , that –

"Hermione!"

Hermione immediately recognizes Ginny's distinct voice from among the chaos that's happening – in her head? She doesn't know. Ginny's voice, however, encourages her and she blearily tears her eyelids apart, blinking rapidly as light suddenly fills her vision, and squints at –

Ginny and _Molly_? In their _nightwear_ , and looking _bedraggled_ , no less?

Tilting her head to the other side, she sees a white overcoat, and spectacles, and –

A _Muggle doctor_.

Her head spins for one, two – _five_ seconds, before the reality of her life crashes down on her, and not just her eyelids, but her _heart_ feels heavy. She lets out a breath, which _can_ account for a sigh, and lets her eyes fall shut.

"Miss Granger?"

She winces at the alien voice, then recalls the presence of the Muggle doctor, and realizes the importance his summons holds. "I'm here," she murmurs, eliciting an exaggerated sigh and a groan from the women seated on the other side of her bed.

"Very good, Miss Granger," the voice – the _doctor_ – says, and she feels a hand grip her shoulder. "I've given the details of your medical prescription to your mother and sister, here. You're going to be as fit as fiddle, in no time."

 _If only you knew, doctor, if only you_ _ **knew**_.

Then she hears shuffling – probably the doctor seeing himself out – and some, before a door shuts at some distance, and finally, "Hermione," Ginny's little voice intones.

She blinks her eyes open, then. "Hey."

Molly chortles a laugh out. "Oh, thank _Merlin_ , my _child_!" she exclaims, rising from her seat, and grabbing Hermione's left hand to plant a kiss over its back. "I'll be in the kitchen – preparing soup."

Hermione feels the corners of her lips tugging into a smile before her eyes travel back to the younger witch settled on the bed, next to her, _still_ clutching at her shoulder. "What _happened_ , 'Mione?"

But Hermione pays lesser mind to her. She's more caught up in examining the _room_ she is in. It isn't _hers_ , for one. Nor does it belong to the rebuilt, resurrected version of the _Burrow_ Hermione has come to know quite well. The walls are completely bare, painted in a _really_ pale bubblegum pink. There's no furniture about the empty place, _at all_ , leave for a side-table and two chairs – placed on either side of the double-bed she's laying in – and a little bookshelf in the corner which is, to her _immense_ surprise, _totally empty_. She frowns.

Ginny, possibly understanding her confusion, squeezes at Hermione's shoulder. The brunette's gaze snaps back up to meet Ginny's, her eyes questioning. "This is one of the many little places Dad's purchased. Out of his curiosity about the differences – or, rather, _shortcomings_ – of a house designed for Muggles." Ginny shrugs, giving the other girl a little, shy smile. "You _know_ how captivated he's always been with everything Muggle."

Hermione hums in fascination. Arthur had bought a _house_? She hadn't known. "And what, pray tell, am _I_ doing here?"

Ginny's entire demeanor slinks from smiles and blushes to gravity and frowns. "We received an urgent floo-call from Draco" – Hermione freezes at his name, but Ginny doesn't notice – "back at the Burrow, about how he needed to send you in, _urgently_. We're lucky Angelina was up – what with Fred being fussy and all – and was present in the living room to receive it. Because, the next minute, your unconscious form had been transported through.

"And, _man_ , were you _unconscious_!" She lets out a _whoosh_ of breath, horror sparkling in her hazel eyes. "Mum tried _every_ possible reviving spell, 'Mione, _every_. _Damn_. _One_. But you just _wouldn't_ –" She breaks off, blinking, and Hermione suspected it was _tears_. "Dad suggested getting you down to some Muggle abode and calling for a Muggle Healer – "

" _Doctor_ ," Hermione corrects, automatically.

" – and _thank Merlin_ we did, Hermione! He detected something called _low flow of blood_ " – she grimaces –"and _Godric_ knows what _else_!"

Hermione smiles a crooked smile. "It's low blood- _pressure_ , Gin."

Ginny nods, frowning into space. "Right. And, then he gave you the – uh – _injection_?" she tries, waiting for Hermione to nod her approval. "Yeah, and handed us a list of Muggle potions. Or whatever they're called."

Hermione nods, shrugging a shoulder. "Low blood-pressure's a pretty common occurrence for me, Gin. I – "

"It _is_?" Ginny cuts her with a concerned frown, sounding surprised. "Then why did _Draco_ not know how to deal with it? And where _is_ he even _at_?"

Hermione's throat closes up. "I –" She stops, swallowing repeatedly, as her vision blurs.

"Oh, _Merlin_ , Hermione, what the _hell_ has happened?!" Ginny gasps out, hurriedly waving her wand and locking them up in a bubble of silence.

 _Then_ her hold loosens, and Hermione is a mess in her redhead, best girl-friend's arms.

* * *

 _Hermione_ _smiled at Harry's appreciative hum as he took a sip from the tea she'd concocted them both._

 _He grinned at her, keeping his cup aside. "I still don't get it, you know? That lame advice of taking_ milk _in my tea. I mean" - he raised his voice at Hermione's derisive snort - "have_ you _ever taken a squeeze of lemon in_ yours _?"_

 _Hermione scowled. "You_ do _understand the point behind_ advices _, Harry, don't you?" she hissed,_ actually _offended. "Ginny and I prefer milk - that's_ us _! You can simply shake your head and tell us that you don't like that idea, you know? You don't have to keep that particular conversation as a memoir, in your heart, and bring it up every time we have - "_

 _She was cut by the shrill sound of her doorbell echoing about her flat. Harry gave her a confused glance. "You were expecting someone?"_

 _Hermione blinked, shaking her head without thinking twice. She_ _never_ _invited people home - she was_ _never expecting guests._

" _Well, maybe it's some neighbor," Harry suggested with a shrug, nonchalant, as he took another sip from his tea._

 _Hermione got up with a conflicted head. Despite the magical neighborhood, she'd never really interacted with the people in her apartment, and certainly not due to the lack in efforts on_ their _end, too. They_ did _know exactly_ who _Hermione Granger was, after all._

 _Briefly thinking of the impression her shabby, oversized T-shirt - which was a worn out Quidditch jersey, actually, that she'd snuck off of Ron's collection - and messy French twist and bare feet with manicure-less nails would cast upon her guest, Hermione made her way out of the sitting room she was sharing with Harry, and down the living room that had nothing but a frumpy, plush rug strewn before the fireplace that connected her with the Floo connection._

 _Finally coming to a pause in the foyer, she took a breath and ran her palm down the front of her Chudley Cannons jumper. Then, without bothering with a revealing charm - because the people, here, were almost always under a conspicuity spell, hence the magical spy-eye replacement didn't quite work well with them - she wrenched the door open, and -_

Froze _._

 _A very irritated seeming Draco Malfoy stood across her threshold, picking invisible pieces of lint off his dark grey dress robes, in a gesture of obvious disdain towards the surrounding he was in. Then his eyes fell over_ her _, his gaze journeying from her head of tousled hair, down to her bare feet - jumping past her wide open eyes, without contact - and he_ gulped _, and -_

 _His expressions morphed into something quite_ unreadable _._

" _Mal - uh,_ Draco _," she hissed, tossing a glance over her shoulder to ensure that her best friend hadn't followed her, "what the hell are you doing_ here _?"_

 _Malfoy blinked, and that unreadable look was gone - replaced by the scowl Hermione was quite well familiar with. "I'm here to discuss_ stuff, _Granger," he drawled, producing a stack of papers -_ parchments _, really - that she well recognised as the drafts they'd both made during their last meeting._

 _Hermione rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest - and not_ quite _liking the way Draco's eyes traced the propping up that happened with her breasts - she squinted -_

" _Hermione? Who is it?" Harry's voice rang through the foyer, jolting Hermione out of the meaningless banter she was about to get indulged in._

 _Meanwhile, her companion's eyes narrowed. "Potter?" He gave a pointed look of disgust to her bare legs. "Did I interrupt some_ intimate, _alone time - "_

" _I - i - it's a neighbor, Harry!" Hermione yelled over the blond fool's rambles. "Gimme a minute!"_

 _Malfoy had opened his mouth, again, but Hermione grabbed the front of his robes in her fist and pulled him in. Then, pushing him against the wall of her foyer - next to the moving picture of herself and Kingsley Shacklebolt from the day she'd received her current job - and_ not _missing the irony of it - Hermione leant up on her tiptoes._

" _Listen here," she whispered, belatedly noticing the way his grey -_ so grey - _eyes widened, "Harry's home, and he_ doesn't _know about the backdoor job I'm handling at your father's firm. And I_ really _intend to keep it that way, Malfoy."_

 _She'd paused to gauge his reaction, and_ not _give him the room to speak, but - the_ prat _\- he_ did _. "Yeah?" he whispered back, his warm, apple-scented breath fanning all over her face. "And why is_ that _? You know, there can be a contract written down, where you'd be forbidden to_ hide _that you're working with us, right?"_

 _Hermione just stared - and_ stared. _Because his eyes were so_ wide _, and so grey and -_ beautiful _, and his breath was so warm and smelling -_ tasting _, even -_ so much _like green apples, that she had to briefly wonder if he ate_ anything _other than_ that _blasted fruit, and even the_ heat _from his body was penetrating her personal space from where she was leaning over him, and -_ was his face closing in on her? _\- and she didn't even want to_ blink _, let alone_ speak, _because -_

" _'Mione, what -_ Hermione _?!"_

 _Hermione jumped away from a red-faced Malfoy with a_ very _undignified_ _squawk. Her fingers twisted into the hem of her mid-thigh-length T-shirt as she looked at a flabbergasted,_ gaping _Harry Potter from under her lashes._

"Malfoy _?!" Harry exclaimed, the pitch of his voice rivalling Hermione's own squawk._

" _Potter," Malfoy mumbled while - Hermione watched from corner of her eye - straightening the front of his robes which had crumpled under her grip. "Apologies for the intrusion, I was here, merely, to extract the copies of - eh - enlighten him, Granger?"_

" _What? Me?" Hermione bleated, wide eyes looking between her best friend and... the_ git _of the century. Then she swallowed, clearing her throat._ Then _she tried, "The application form I'd filled out for the job?" she asked Harry, making vague gestures towards her photograph with the Minister of Magic. "M - Malfoy was here to extract the copies of…_ that _."_

 _Harry's brows shot off his forehead. "What even…" He trailed off, shaking his head, before his eyes found Malfoy. "_ Why _on_ earth _?"_

" _Private reasons," Malfoy said, brushing Harry off with a nonchalant flick of his pale wrist. "That_ is _, actually, the reason why this crazy hag was trying to - ah -_ molest _me, right now."_

 _Hermione blinked at the two males while Harry's eyes kept on narrowing in skepticism; Malfoy's condescending smirk remained adamant._

 _Finally, Harry looked at her with a sigh. "I'll get going, then, 'Mione," he muttered, pulling her info a brief hug. "Malfoy." Giving the blond a stiff nod and_ impossibly _judgemental eyes, Harry slid past Hermione, towards the door._

 _Malfoy tapped on his shoulder as Harry brushed past him, though,_ so much _to Hermione's surprise that she had to_ suppress _a gasp of horror._

 _Dropping her a smirk over his shoulder, and mouthing an inconspicuous 'later', Malfoy looked down at the green-eyed, spectacled wizard. "I'll come with you."_

 _Hermione felt that she could, actually,_ die _in that very moment, without a worry._

* * *

Hermione nurses the warm cup of tea between her cold hands – she doesn't know if they're _ever_ going to be warm again – as her gaze follows the jovially jumping, _now_ brunet kid around her room. She'd respectfully shifted to her _own_ flat, earlier, in the morning, yes. There was only so much she could lean upon a haggard and sleep-deprived Ginny Weasley.

"Think about it, Hermione darling, _please_."

Hermione shuts her eyes, nodding blankly at Andromeda Tonks' umpteenth repetition of the same request. "I will, 'Dromeda. I'll think about it."

She hears a sigh and footsteps, then the door to her room opens. She waits for it to shut before opening her eyes – and jumping in surprise. Teddy is lingering near her bedpost, wide, black eyes trained upon her.

"What is it, Teddy?" Hermione coos, smiling down at the child.

Teddy frowns and walks backwards up to the door. Hermione's eyebrows hike up with interest. "Granny Cissa is good woman, Minnie," Teddy mumbles, then, looking at Hermione with the same innocent look in his eyes. "And she tells me she loves me. You love me, too. You should not hate her, Minnie."

Hermione's eyes water at the kid's words, but before she can respond, he has already opened door, with a prominent blush on his cheeks, and rushed away from her. Voices float in through the gap Teddy's left between the door and jamb.

" _ **...she might not believe**_ _**me, right now, 'Dromeda, I**_ **know** _ **she may not. And for good reason. But I still want to see her. Have a word –**_ **apologize** _**to her. My son's lost his head – I haven't. And –**_ "

" _ **You think I**_ **don't** _**know that, Cissa? She's promised me she'd think about. Give her time. I know that girl; she's going to see reason, very soon. Hermione is nothing if not good in judging –**_ "

"Hermione!"

Hermione looks up from her nails, startled, as the Black sisters' conversation is cut off by a new presence slipping into her bedroom and shutting the door. She takes in the brightly shining, _concerned_ brown eyes and gives Padma Patil a shaky smile.

"Hey, Padma."

"What – " The ex-Ravenclaw sputters, standing foolishly near the door for a moment, before she rushes over to envelop Hermione in an overwhelming hug. "What _happened_ , Hermione?" Padma mumbles in Hermione's hair.

Hermione sighs, circling her own arms around the other witch and clutching them together over Padma's long, black hair that cascade over her back down to her waist. "I and Draco broke up," she chokes out, clearing her throat as a _really_ familiar knot of emotions begins to form in it.

"Oh, _Krishna_ ," Padma breathes out, pulling away and searching Hermione's face with wide eyes. " _Broke_ up? As in – what? – _separated_?" she asks, desperately, _incredulously_.

"Yes, that," Hermione whispers, looking past Padma's shoulder at the intricately designed drapes hanging over the windows of her room – drapes that _Draco_ 'd selected for her, " _separated_."

Padma lets out an agonized moan. "Oh, I'm such a _terrible_ friend, 'Mione, _I'm sorry_!" she squeaks, taking Hermione by surprise. "You shouldn't be thinking about any of this – and I'm playing _twenty questions_ with you!"

Hermione's lips tilt up in a tremulous smile. "You're a fine friend, Padma Patil, don't judge."

Padma grins widely at that, albeit a little _too_ forcefully. Then her eyes light up for _real_ , and she takes Hermione's hands in her own. "Boss is going to go _bonkers_ over your absence from the preparations of that seminar happening coming Wednesday!" she exclaims, mischief spread all over her face.

Hermione rolls her eyes, letting out a small huff of laughter. "Yeah? Well, something good out of my tragedy, then. But, hey, don't call him _boss_ , please, Padma. That, right there, builds up an image of some charming, _sexy_ billionaire guy wooing his female employees, and – some – some _really_ explicit office sex." Hermione wrinkles her nose in distaste, and Padma cackles aloud.

"Oh, goodie, that is _so true_!" Padma gasps between laughter. "And we _really_ don't feel like exploring whether one Ricky Rogers _is_ , really, involving in some Muggle, erotic, romance novel's _kinky_ sex, do we?"

Hermione's face crumples at the mental image and she lets out a shudder that is not _quite_ exaggerated. " _Please_ ," she moans, " _no_."

Padma grins, smugly, no doubt proud of having distracted Hermione from the sorrow she'd been self-indulging in. Hermione shakes her head to herself. Little does the black-head know that it ain't going anywhere from Hermione's head, anytime soon. It isn't a tragedy that's come up as an impassable obstacle in her life, no – this is a _horror_ happened which is going to leave marks and shadows that are going to forever affect the path her life –

"Madam?" Padma clicks her fingers before Hermione's face, breaking the brunette's musing. "No wallowing, okay?"

Hermione smiles, tightly. "I'll try. Keep me engaged."

Padma grins at her, with teeth. "The venue's been changed. Of the seminar, I mean. It's gonna be taking place – _guess where_?" Padma squeals, excitement spilling from her voice. Hermione blinks at her, shaking her head in resignation. " _India_! India, Hermione, _my_ India! I haven't been in, like, _six years_ , and – oh, Merlin, Hermione, my Gramp's gonna be so _thrilled_ to find me there on behalf of the British Ministry of Magic!"

Hermione chuckles, lowly, at the other witch's enthusiasm. Then she pauses. Her smile falls. "Wait, Padma – Is… I – _I'm_ the representative of this seminar, ain't I?"

Padma's starlit face drops, too, as she looks at Hermione with a frown. "Are you – oh, Krishna, _okay_ ," she mumbles, nodding quickly. "I – I _get_ it, yeah. You shouldn't be taking over such functions, Hermione; your brain needs some rest after the turmoil you've gone through. An evening of fake smiles and promotional, _false_ gloating about our country's Ministry of Magic isn't – that's _not_ what you need, right now!"

Hermione is really flustered at her friend's – and Department-mate's – concern. Then she shakes her head. "No, Padma – "

"I'll talk to Rogers. Yeah," Padma mumbles, almost to herself, as she twists her fingers in the ends of her long hair, "I'll – I'll make some excuse, and… and I'll ask him to postpone this one? Yes, that'd be good." She nods to herself before giving Hermione a wide, obviously forced smile. "I got your back 'Mione, don't – "

She blinks rapidly before holding Padma steady by her shoulders, effectively cutting the girl's rant. "Padma, _Padma_ – look at me. See. _Look_. Do I look like a person that can possibly go down in panic attacks in the presence of fake smiles and appreciative talks about our Ministry? The Ministry we _work_ for – the Ministry which provides for our _expenses_? No, Padma Patil, I'm better than _that_." She sniffs.

Padma still looks confused, agitated, and more than a little unsure "It's not that, Hermione, I _have faith_ in you – I'm sure even _Rogers_ does, actually – but there are going to be _words_ around, in the air. _Rumors_. And no one is _ever_ ready for – "

"I know, I know, _fine_ ," Hermione concedes, nodding. "I'm gonna stay away from the Ministry building – my _office_ – for as long as my head needs. I'm going to go there, this evening, and collect the stuff – the _research_ material – that I've collected for this Wednesday. I'll prepare myself at home. I can do it. I can _do_ it Padma, and I _will_ ," she finishes, fiercely.

Padma looks at her with admiration filling her eyes. "I _really_ don't roll that way Hermione, or I'd have _kissed_ you, right now," she whispers, grinning as Hermione laughs, before crushing the ex-Gryffindor in another hug.

* * *

 _You people need to stop worrying. Hermione's not gonna take Draco back easily - if she does at all. She might not. I haven't exactly planned the end of this story, you see. And - more pressing, devastatingly horrifying matters are about to be brought to light. Worse things are about to happen._

 _Keep and eye on Caterina and Rogers for me. They don't look cute..._

 _Here, I'm saying what I never have before - **KINDLY REFRAIN FROM POSTING REVIEWS ON MY STORY IF YOU'RE OUT TO OFFEND. I'M GOING TO TURN OFF 'GUEST REVEWS' AT THE NEXT SIGHTING OF SOMETHING OFFENDING.**_

 _xo!_

 _Aishwarya._


	5. Nobody Knows The Truth

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Hola! So... A few prep-talks and lovely people later, I'm over that rotten incident of the racist review, and am happily leading my life as an **INDIAN**. Alright. So, I received a review in Hindi - dear Guest, you made my day, really! **Dhanyawad** , back at ya! :D

This one's short, I'm sorry. And - the story isn't winding up in eight chapters, either. It's gonna go up to fifteen, I'm guessing.

Anyways. Thank you, dear reviewers, and all the people who've added this in their favorites, or have followed it, or have, even, merely been a silent reader! I love you all, till you're not out to offend.

 _[PS. If you're wondering where have I been hibernating, this past month, then come down to my tumblr: **i-heart-hogwarts . tumblr . com**. That is one place that I can't stay away from, regardless of the mood I've been in.]_

* * *

 **5: Nobody Knows The Truth**

* * *

Draco blinks, feeling _awfully_ _nauseated_ , as bright, _blinding_ light envelops his entire frame. The door has been opened. Then he hears a hushed 'Nox', and breathes out a sigh of relief. She's being considerate - that much, at least, is good sign.

Assured of the wand-light having been put out, his eyelids flutter open. He blinks again.

Pansy's hair is a tousled - something he deems _quite_ natural, given that she's probably just left her bed because of him - and sleepiness is easily distinguishable in her narrowed eyes. He does a quick, visual exploration, and an uncertain frown twists his brow. She's wearing a _male_ vest. A male, _Quidditch_ vest. And of some bulky male, too, looking at how the broad straps of the sleeveless garment are threatening to dangle off her narrow shoulders. Or, even, how the comfortable looking vest is reaching _beyond_ her knees.

"What the _fuck_ , Draco?" she grits out, wand forgotten as her arms cross against her chest. Her voice is _groggy_. "Have you even… Did you - do you know what _time_ it is?"

Draco shrugs, deftly shoving her to a side with his elbow, and forces his way into her apartment. He can hear her indignant sputters echoing after him as he finds his way to her kitchen.

He hasn't even dragged himself a chair at her kitchen-table before Pansy enters the room.

"Are you - _fuck_ \- are you _out_ of your _mind_?" she almost screeches in utter incredulity.

"I've had a bad day. _Awful_ day," he mutters, finally slumping into one of the bar-stools lining the kitchen counter.

Pansy walks over, furiously, and towers his deranged form. "I have _company_ , tonight, Draco," she hisses, viciously, because - Draco presumes - she's trying to keep her voice _low_.

Draco shrugs. "Kick him out, then," he suggests, earning a _hard_ smack over his head.

"I'm kicking out _no one_ ," Pansy hisses, rearranging the strap of the vest on her shoulder.

Draco nods. "That is good. That means I'm staying, too, aren't I?"

She purses her lips, looking at him from under fissured eyebrows. "You're _really_ drunk," she whispers, eyes widening, as if she's just realized how _very_ much drunk he is.

And he _is_. Drunk, that is. _Heavily_ so.

"Why're you - _Draco_!" She yanks at his arm, steadying him as he swivels the barstool and lands in a precarious position that is dangerous enough to give him amnesia if he falls off. "Stop - just… get _off_ that stool!" Pansy commands, tackling an arm of his around her shoulders as she pulls him to his feet.

Draco, however, shoved her away. "I'm _okay_ , Pans," he growls, straightening his crumpled shirt. "Living room?" He doesn't wait for her answer before walking into said room and settling over the table kept adjacent to a comfortable looking couch.

Pansy follows, arms crossed and an expression of deep apprehension on her face. He doesn't miss the repetitive, wary glances she keeps throwing at the staircase that he knows leads to her bedroom. For some reason, that makes him snicker.

Her sharp, earth-green eyes narrow at him. "Something _funny_?" she snarls.

He pulls her to him, abruptly, and gives her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "It's been _ages_ since such a thing's happened," he declares. "You having a guy over and hiding it from me. It's cute." It's _not_ , but he smacks a kiss on her other cheek. She grimaces and immediately shoves him away. But she's _smiling_ , and that is enough to raise his spirits.

"Who is it, anyway? Your _company_?" he asks, snickering again when her cheeks redden.

"You're _completely_ shit-faced. I'd rather talk about it later, when you are sober enough to understand the gravity of… of his _identity_."

Draco has no idea what 'shit-faced' means, but guesses that she's talking about his drunkenness. Then he cocks an eyebrow. " _Deeper_ than a night-stand, is it?"

She rolls her eyes, walking back into the kitchen, which isn't exactly _hidden_ from where he's seated, and tosses a, " _Later_ , Draco," over her shoulder.

Draco gazes at the blotchy, worn out fabric of the jersey she's wearing while she fumbles around for… for _what_ , exactly? He frowns. "Past _three_ of the morning," he mumbles, rubbing a fist into his right eye and squinting at her stilled form with his left. "What're you _doing_?"

"You - you look like you could use - uh, some… _tea_?" she murmurs, looking at him with a crooked, _nervous_ half-smile from under the fringe of her black hair.

Is she _lying_?

Draco scowls. Had he been a _bottle_ less drunk, right now, the question wouldn't have taken him more than _half_ a glance at Pansy to answer.

"No, I don't," he retorts, watching closely as her gaze worriedly flickers between him and the staircase directly opposite to the kitchen, _again_ , and -

 _Shit_ , is she _that_ worried about him finding about her fling?

He's _just_ about to make another remark when she beats him to it. "What's wrong with _you_ , Drake?"

He blinks. "Me? Nothing. I'm completely fine," he smugly states, stretching his arms above his head. "Drunk, but okay."

Pansy rolls her eyes. "What are you _here_ for? Is there anything you wanted to talk about? And - " She pauses, frowning suddenly as concern spreads over her features. "Why _did_ you drink, Drake? What's happened?"

And that, actually, is _precisely_ the wrong thing to say, Draco realizes, as the telltale prickling resurfaces behind his shut eyes.

 _Shut_ eyes?

When did _that_ -

"Draco? Draco, are you _listening_ \- "

Hermione's laughing face is the last thing he's conscious of - but, what is _she_ doing, here, at _Pansy's_ house? - and then he let's go.

* * *

 _Hermione Granger was_ adorably _out of breath when she stepped in through the door. And, interestingly, she went from looking tired to_ self-conscious _, in a split-second, when her eyes found_ him _. Draco held back a smirk._

" _How_ considerate _of you to have_ finally _joined us, Miss Granger," Lucius drawled, rolling his neck in an exaggerated gesture of stretching his stiff limbs._

 _Granger sputtered for ten seconds, eyes widened, before she scoffed. "I have a_ job _to handle, Mister Malfoy."_

 _Draco smirked openly, this time, giving his father a 'you-brought-it-on' look. Lucius simply got up from his recliner and slipped out of the Library._

"Hello _, Granger," Draco purred, cherishing the sight of her pinked cheeks._

" _Why's your – ah, why isn't_ Lucius _a part of our meeting today?" The pitch of her voice was really very_ slightly _raised, and Draco probably won't have noticed, in fact, if her heaving chest – encased in a modest, pale blue, chambray shirt – won't have caught his attention._

Mother _of_ Merlin _, but her_ nipples _were_ poking through _the material! Whoever came to official meetings looking_ aroused _? This wench was gonna_ ruin _him!_

 _Draco's mouth went dry._ Fuck _, but he_ knew _what those globes of flesh looked like! He'd_ seen _them – properly put on display, too; he didn't even have to_ sneak _, honestly – and he wasn't even at_ fault _for having recollections of what they'd felt like against his palm, and what_ all _he'd had fantasized about_ doing to them _, for endless nights, and –_

"Malfoy!" _she was hissing by the time Draco'd managed to shake himself out of his musings. And –_

 _Uh, oh. He was_ caught _._

 _Tucking his lower lip between his pearlescent, shapely row of teeth, Draco let his eyes drop back to her –_ damn _, Salazar,_ still _bloody_ heaving _! – breasts. "You skipped the_ bra _, today, or what, Granger?" he remarked, then, his voice embarrassingly hoarse._

 _Granger's gasp echoed through the gigantic, almost empty Library, and Draco had a mere_ second _to blink before a swarm of angry looking birds had been conjured by the fuming,_ blushing _witch - wand-lessly_ and _wordlessly - and -_

"Protego Totalum _!" Draco screeched, jumping to his feet and flicking out his wand, just in time to stop the_ Oppugno _spelled birds from attacking him._

" _I could have invaded that spell if I had my wand at ready," Granger hissed, eyes narrowed._

 _He gaped at her, wide-eyed. "Fucking_ hell _, Granger, I was just_ teasing _, dammit! I mean,_ look _at your breasts! They're - "_

 _He was cut off by a Harpy-like scream from the accompanying witch. Horrified, he flinched as she twisted on her heels to march up to the door to the Library._

 _Then he panicked. "Granger! Wait! Come on," he called after her, "I'm - I'm_ sorry _, okay? I was just… I don't know… teasing you?"_

 _But she'd already left._

* * *

The first, coherent thought entering Draco's mind is that he's not _as_ hungover as he'd predicted he would be, when he had been busy downing pints after pints of Ogden's finest, last night. The second thought, more shocking than the first, is that he's not in a bed.

He peels his eyelids open, blinking and squinting in the well-lit room.

"Rise and shine, Mister Dork."

He groans, then, scowling at an immaculately dressed, tea-sipping Pansy as he sits up in -

"The _couch_?" he bleats, incredulously, looking about the living room in shock. " _Really_ , Pansy? You've got, like, _two_ spare, fucking bedrooms, and you gave - "

"You didn't deserve them," she cuts in, cocking an eyebrow, her demeanour not fazed in the least.

Draco frowns. "Excuse me?"

"You dropped here at _three_ in the morning, Draco, _absolutely pissed_." She keeps her cup away, her expressions hardening by the second. "I had my guesses about that show."

Draco gulps. A sudden, misplaced weight is pressing against his sternum.

Only, it _isn't_ misplaced, at all.

The events from yesterday flood his brain, then.

He lets out a breath, sinking into the cushions kept against the back of the couch as his eyes slide shut in defeat. "How much do you know?" he mumbles.

"About as much as the rest of the world, probably," she snarls, taking Draco by surprise. "I know that something's happened between you and Granger, and that _that_ something has made you break it off with her and get into an impromptu - _relationship_ with your father's secretary," she finishes, tossing the day's _Daily Prophet_ in his lap.

With trembling hands and baited breath, Draco unrolls the newspaper - and let's out a string of swears under his breath as he reads the headline.

" _Breakup of the Millennia_ ," Pansy mimics the words, rolling her eyes. "Never thought that the _Prophet_ would turn into a gossip machine. Does anyone even _require_ Parvati Patil's _Witch Weekly_ , these days?" she grumbles, mostly to herself, massaging her temples.

Meanwhile, Draco tries to calm his thudding heart.

The newspaper in his hands has printed the awfully disgusting article about his private life with a four-square-inches picture of his and Hermione's. He remembers spending the night with the - _supposed_ \- love of his live, at the Ministry's Yuletide Ball that the photograph belongs to.

Lead is settling into his stomach…

…and bile is grazing the back of his throat.

" _Pansy_ ," he grunts, thanking Salazar Slytherin when the girl immediately takes the newspaper away from his hands. At least she's paying _attention_.

"You're gonna be sick, aren't you?" she rushes out, patting his back with fumbling hands. "Do - do you - "

"No, I - " He swallows, and sags in relief when the feeling of nausea subsides. He swallows again and his breathing pattern begins to even out. "I'm fine."

Pansy's lets out a whooshing breath. "Thank Merlin," she mutters, plopping down on the couch, next to him. "Do you wanna rest for some time before we talk?"

Draco thinks it over. He decides. "No. I'd rather have the discussion first," he says, reclining back against the cushions. "After all, that is what I'd come for."

* * *

 _Draco marched into his father's Study, without knocking - which was an unsaid sign of showing ire, in his family - and cleared his throat as an address to the older blond hunching over his desk._

" _What."_

 _Draco blinked at the flatness of Lucius' tone. It was so flat that it didn't even sound like a_ question _._

" _Why wasn't I informed about this afternoon's meeting with Granger?" Draco asked, trying to rival his father's nonchalance._

 _But he blinked again, when Lucius' irritated,_ angry _grey eyes rose to meet his. "_ Miss _Granger," he corrected, causing Draco to flinch. "And you have been kicked out of the secret campaign that_ _ **Felicis Potions**_ _has been carrying out with Miss Granger,_ congratulations _."_

 _Draco's jaw fell open in shock. "_ What _?" he bleated._

 _Lucius sighed. "I'm quite busy, Draco. Why don't you - "_

" _No," Draco interrupted, at which his father raised his eyebrows. "I'm not moving from here until you tell me - "_

" _Lucius."_

 _Draco twisted on his heels to look at his mother frowning in the doorway. She hadn't knocked_ either _. He scowled. This was the_ worst _time for her to be interrupting. "Mother, I'm - " He broke off, gasping, as Narcissa raised a hand to stop him._

" _I need to have a word with your father," she said, calmly, her frown slowly dissipating. "Would you, please, excuse us for a while, Draco?"_

 _Draco let out a pained groan. "Not_ now _, Mother, I was having a discussion - "_

" _A_ quarrel _is what you were having, son," Narcissa cut in, an eyebrow tweaked. "But we will see to that later. Right now,_ leave _."_

 _Aghast, Draco backed away, and slid out of the Study, barely resisting the urge to curse. But he was well aware of the fact that Narcissa Malfoy was as sharp with her ears as she was with her wand, and nobody needed a proof of how much the youngest Black daughter was efficient with her **wand**. And, right now, a combination the two could render Draco's body quite useless for quite some time._

 _Draco sighed, sauntering down the corridor as he brooded._

 _His father had kicked him out of the campaigning that had been_ his _idea, in the first place. And for whatever reason?_

 _Draco let out a drawn out moan of 'fuck me' when he remembered. He'd been_ quite _out of league, the previous time he'd been left alone with Granger. And she'd left,_ furious _. Draco frowned. That had been merely a_ week _ago. Was he_ so much _overworked that he_ forgot _?_

 _Apparently._

 _Draco clicked his tongue, mentally bidding goodbye to his private -_ really, really secret _\- fantasies of getting acquainted, and nicely so, with one Hermione Granger's round, shapely,_ luscious _breasts. And those perky, dark pink,_ gold-tipped _nipples, too._

 _He sighed, gazing out at the snow covered grounds of the Malfoy Manor._

* * *

I have **absolutely** no idea when the next update will be. Not this month, at least, because I've participated in two more fests, and one them has its deadline as the 26th of this month. So - scheduled packed, sorry!

Talking of fests, come down to **HP-DRIZZLE** , on **LiveJournal** , the reveals have been made just this 7th. There've been **9 Dramione** stories, this time. Mine, though, is a **Harry x Pansy** piece, sorry to disappoint. I'm Hansy trash, too, I couldn't help it! I'll probably post the oneshot, here, as well. But, not right now. Sometime _later._

So... Visit that, yeah? And review this!

xAishwarya!


	6. Just A Player In Your Game

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** YES! FINALLY! :D

I have infinite apologies for the delay and a handful explanations, too, but I really don't wish to delay this more than how much it already has been.

Even yet, thanks topi aap the readers! Thank you, **Jade Presley**! Thanks to **Miranna**. Thank you, **G** , for dropping by, but I'll adress your problem at the end of this. **Zipporah363** , hi-five, buddy, thank you! Finally, a HUGE thank you to **MrsGinPotter** for being an inspiration, whose checking up on me pushed me to write this! Buckets of love to ya!

So – read on!

* * *

 **6: Just a Player in Your Game**

* * *

She can hear Ginny fiddling around in the kitchen – banging utensils and shutting the drawers with more force than necessary – and Hermione is _not_ liking it. Not liking the way she is being treated by Ginny – absolutely _hating_ the way Molly has been coddling her.

She isn't a baby. She is not even a _teenager_ , anymore. So she _is_ distressed. After all, she has had a devastating blow delivered to her heart, and by someone that she'd almost become certain would never hurt her.

But none of that means that she won't be able to deal with this. She is capable of getting over it – she just needs time. And space. _None_ of which are being granted by the two bossy females of the Weasley household.

"Here," Molly intones, smiling brightly as she hands over a cup of coffee to Hermione. "I had to use magic with that… _thing_ you make this concoction in. It's, uh, slightly confusing."

The woman's cheeks are flushed with adrenaline – an obvious result of the amount of hard work she has just done on Hermione's coffee maker.

Hermione takes a sip from the cup. "It's wonderful, Molly. Thank you," she whispers, meaning it with heart.

Molly's face splits into a huge smile. "You do? Oh, thank _Merlin_!" she exclaims with a laugh that seems forced. Then she sighs, sneaking a glance at the kitchen her daughter is bumping around in. "I have to be home, now, child," she tells her, making her way to Hermione's floo. "I have a very pregnant Angelina, back at home, to take care of."

Hermione smiles at the mention of George's seven-months pregnant wife. "Tell Angelina I said hi," she says, her voice sounding scratchy.

With another brilliant smile flashed at her, Molly steps into the fireplace and vanishes with a swirl of green flames.

Hermione let's out a sigh.

"You won't mind pumpkin _pasties_ instead of a pie, would you?" Ginny calls from the kitchen. "I'm in a crisis, of sorts…"

Hermione cannot understand why this redheaded witch is even _trying_. She doesn't _need_ pampering, Godric, she needs _space_!

"It's fine, Gin," she calls back, finally.

She gets up from the armchair she is sat in, and moves down to crouch before her fireplace. The embers have died, leaving coal and ashes in their wake. She fingers her wand kept in the back pocket of her jeans. Hesitating for just a second, she pulls it out and points it at the hearth.

Taking a deep breath, she whispers, " _Incendio_."

A slow smile crawls up her cheeks when the fireplace lights up.

This is an indication that she isn't nearly as distraught, now, as she'd been earlier.

"Tada!"

Hermione spins in place, without rising from her squat, and exhales when she finds Ginny levitating a plate of pumpkin pasties and a kettle in front of her. She shakes her head.

"Come on, up, now!" Ginny exclaims, rubbing her hands after she has lowered the food items on Hermione's coffee table. "Let's devour this."

 _Let's_? Hermione almost groans at the implication. She so does _not_ want company, right now. She sighs. "You know, Ginny, I'll be fine on my own."

Ginny clicks her tongue, moving to sit on the couch. "I'm not not buying that, sorry."

Hermione rises, finally, to retire to the armchair that she hasn't left for more than a _minute_ , in total, today. "I'm serious, Ginny," she murmurs, rubbing a fist into her itchy, swollen eyes. "I'm just feeling tired… and maybe _sleepy_ , even. But, I'm okay."

Ginny looks at her, skeptically. "Are trying to get _rid_ of me? Is that it?"

However much might she have been wanting _exactly_ that, hearing the younger witch say those words make Hermione feel guilty. She lets out an elongated breath. She has been doing that a lot, lately. "No, it's just… Alright. Stay."

She reaches forward to place her almost full, cold cup of coffee on the table. She can feel Ginny looking at her, but she doesn't glance her way.

Things are going to get better, quicker, if she goes on, along with her life and stops putting special emphasis on them. Ginny's stare is a special emphasis. She doesn't need to acknowledge that.

"Taste one," Ginny says, forwarding her the plate of pasties.

There is excitement spread over her freckled face, and Hermione can tell that the girl is _really_ wanting a review. Well. Hermione doesn't doubt her skills. She is Molly Weasley's daughter, after all; who would question her cooking skills?

She picks up a piece, anyway, and breaks off a chunk to place it in her mouth. It's delicious. "It is really lovely, Gin."

Her expressions must give something away because Ginny visibly eases back in her seat. "Thank you."

Hermione's thoughts have galloped off to farther grounds, however. She is back to the place she doesn't wish to be at – the memory lane.

But, she couldn't exactly help it, could she? This, right now, is something that used to happen with her and Draco, all the time. After a long day of staying apart, at work, she would prepare some special dinner for him, without magic―because she never really could get confident with her pies baking in ten seconds and soups brewing in five―and he would look into her eyes and tell her how she didn't need to put in _efforts_ to please him; how he was more than content, more than pleased by her mere _presence_ in his life – before he would get down to enjoy the meals, feeding small bites to her between the sweet, loving kisses that they shared.

Theirs had been a relationship of love. _Pure_ love. No misunderstandings, no scope of mistrust. Well – at least on _her_ part. He, as it is evident, now, has had other plans―

"Hermione?"

Hermione blinks, acutely aware of the constriction in her throat and a comforting hand on her back. Then she feels the wet warmth on her cheeks, and she swallows back a sob.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, 'Mione," Ginny mumbles into her hair, gathering her closer against her chest. "You've lost something precious. It's okay to cry. It would be an outlet to your grief – not a display of weakness."

Somehow, it's as if Ginny knows exactly _what_ to say. Hermione wraps her hands about the petite woman's waist and sobs loudly into her shirt.

"It's okay, it's fine," Ginny whispers into her curly hair. "Let it all go – nobody is going to judge you. Everyone knows how strong you are. Everyone knows you are capable of dealing with _anything_. A moment of weakness does not mean you're fragile. You are strong…"

Hermione cries louder, her mind full of the moments she has spent with the one live of her life. The impromptu dates he used to take her for, whenever he had time to visit her at the Ministry during her lunch hours. The innumerable times he had surprised her with tickets to Muggle concerts. The innumerable times he'd taken her to the _Wizarding_ parts of other countries, for weekends, so that they would have time to themselves.

The way he loved her – the way he would express it; the way he would _say_ it.

The way she would _feel_ it.

"It's okay, 'Mione."

Ginny's voice breaks her chain of thoughts, and Hermione pulls away, rubbing at her face to wipe away the wetness. She gives Ginny a tremulous smile. "Tha―thank you, Gin," she breathes out. "I need―needed that."

Ginny smiles back at her, using the sleeve of her shirt to pat under Hermione's eyes. "I know."

Hermione sighs, leaning back in the armchair. Although she doesn't feel completely rejuvenated, her heart feels decidedly lighter. Well. She should give herself _some_ credit, she decides; being fully over everything won't be _that_ easy.

"Narcissa had come by, this morning," Ginny suddenly says, sipping at her tea. Hermione notices that she has poured out a cup for her, as well. "Did you know?"

She nods, slowly. "I heard her and 'Dromeda talking."

"Yeah, well, she's staying over with Andromeda." Hermione looks up at Ginny in shock. The redhead shrugs. "I don't know the details. Just that she had a spat with her son – and possibly her husband, too – and left the Manor."

Well, _that_ is quite a shock. Hermione wonders if this has something to do with her. Knowing Narcissa as much as she does, Hermione wouldn't put it past the blonde woman to walk out on her family if she's upset with them.

"And Padma came by, too? Mum told me."

Hermione nods, again, this time with a little twist of gaiety on her lips when she recalls the overenergetic, Indian witch. "She did."

"What did she want?" Ginny asks with a frown, surprising Hermione.

"Why do you―she's a _friend_ of mine, Gin!" she exclaims, confused. "She was checking up on me."

Ginny gives her a guilty smile, nodding. "Sorry, I didn't… I thought you two were just co-workers. You know, 'cause you sort of disliked her sister at school."

Hermione actually smiles at that. "Don't be so sure about that. I _still_ might."

Before Ginny can respond, though, an alarm goes off in Hermione's cellphone. Confused, she fishes it from the coffee table. It's a reminder, which is repeating for the _eighth_ time. Her eyes widen.

 _ **Grab stuff from office – Seminar with Padma.**_

Gasping, Hermione stands up. "Oh, jeez! I had some business to care of, at the office, and I completely _forgot_!"

Ginny looks at her askance before standing up, as well. "What?"

"There's, uh… I have to collect some files from my office." She hurriedly peeks at her phone, gasping again when she notices that it is past five of the evening. "Damn!'

"Hermione – _Hermione!_ "

She stops, halfway across the hall, headed towards her bedroom.

"Slow down!" Ginny chides, looking at her with wide eyes. Then she sighs, and purses her lips for a moment. "You're going to the Ministry?"

Hermione nods.

"Right now?"

"I know it is late, but―"

"Hermione, all the offices _close_ at five! And it's fifteen minutes _past_!" Ginny yells, incredulously. "You don't think it is slightly _unsafe_ to visit such an enormous building _alone_ , when it's practically empty?"

Hermione scowls at her. "Shut up, Gin. I'm more than capable of protecting myself."

Ginny rolls her eyes, though she seems to have calmed down. "You… You're _absolutely_ sure? You could always do it tomorrow?"

"And _waste_ the remainder of today?" Hermione squeaks. "No way! Not when the seminar is on Wednesday."

Ginny frowns. "Today's Friday."

" _Exactly_!" she shouts back, and twists in place to continue towards her bedroom.

"Hermione, wait!"

Groaning, she stills in place. "What _now_?"

"Harry's working late, today," Ginny says in a small voice. "If you need… if _anything_ goes wrong, send him a Patronus, okay? He'll be with you."

Hermione turns around to give the redhead standing in her fireplace a smile. "I will be okay, Ginny. But, thank you "

Ginny smiles back before vanishing through green flames.

Sighing, Hermione is about to move towards her room when a tapping noise catches her attention. She frowns, looking around, and her eyebrows shoot up when she realizes that it is an owl. Speeding back into the living room, she finds a Ministry owl perched outside one of the windows.

Taking a breath, she moves towards it, confused.

The owl doesn't even wait for a treat, and is soaring up in the sky as soon as Hermione detaches the note tied to its leg.

It is a simple, yellow piece of parchment with a Ministry seal on it. But, ironically, Hermione can recognize that the parchment itself, along with the thread tied across it, does _not_ belong to the Ministry.

Regardless, she cracks it open.

 _ **Dear Miss Granger,**_

 _ **I hope you're having a miserable day. I mean, of course you should be!**_

 _ **I ensured that, didn't I?**_

 _ **But!**_

 _ **Do not rush to presume that the only threat I posed was to your relationship with your boyfriend. (Which I have successfully on that, by the way!)**_

 _ **Anyways, that isn't what I want you to think of, right now. I want you to think about 'him', but.**_

 _ **Because?**_

 _ **Your boyfriend's reputation is my next target.**_

 _ **What problem do I have with 'Draco Malfoy', you might think. I would placate you: nothing, other than his intimate acquaintance with you.**_

 _ **Sound creepy, do I?**_

 _ **How about this: I have a beautiful, three-minute clipping of his intimate times with a lady that isn't you. What more, she doesn't even quite consent to his activities.**_

 _ **Do you catch my drift?**_

 _ **No?**_

 _ **Oh, come on Hermione! I'm talking about him raping Laura Caterina, of course!**_

 _ **But you know what else?**_

 _ **You can prevent it. I am giving you an opportunity to.**_

 _ **So – it is really simple: get down to your office, right now, or else…**_

 _ **Well, nothing much, just some juicy details about a loathsome deed committed by the renowned Malfoy Jr. (with his current girlfriend, no less) get scattered all over tomorrow's Daily Prophet.**_

 _ **From,**_

 _ **You know, don't you?**_

Her breath caught in her throat, Hermione's wide eyes scan the letter, again, and she stumbles a few steps back.

A _blackmail_? About _Draco_? What the hell is going _on_?

And...

She sucks in an abrupt breath. _Of course_ she knows exactly _who_ this is! She doesn't recognize the handwriting, but she can practically _hear_ the woman's voice. _Caterina's_ voice.

Thinking as quickly as she can, Hermione grabs her wand with shaky hands and casts a few detection spells on the letter. It seems safe. Letting out a breath, she clenches her teeth shut to hold back the sobs that threaten to break out of her.

Now is not the time to dwell on her relationship with him; it's the blame she needs to save Draco from – a blame about a crime that she can bet her _life_ on Draco's innocence in.

Moving fast, she Apparates to the top floor of her apartments, which houses the owlery. There's only one utility of the letter that she can think of.

Apparating back, once she's sent it off, Hermione drags her sleeved forearms over face to clear it off any remaining tear stains, and steps into the fireplace after cupping a fistful of floo powder in a hand.

"Ministry of Magic!" she yells.

* * *

 _Hermione rolled her eyes at the expressions of childlike wonder on her co-workers' faces, as Ricky Rogers went on with his presentation on Billboards. In fact, along with the topic of discussion, the_ projector _that used, seemed to amaze these people, as well. Honestly, how come the wizarding population was_ this _backward?_

 _But, even though this current scenario was frustrating her, Hermione was very happy on the inside. As happy as she'd been at the time of Voldemort's fall, in fact. This entire department was an example of how much the Ministry was trying to promote Muggles and their technology, and that was everything she could have ever wished from this Ministry, and more._

 _She sighed, fighting the loud yawn that was threatening to tumble out of her mouth for quite a long time, now._

 _A knock at the door disrupted the flow of discussion. Hermione looked up, too, and her eyes widened when she found her assistant knocking at the door. Cecilia's own hazel eyes were trained on her._

 _Ricky Rogers cleared his throat. "Miss Granger?"_

 _Hermione snapped her attention back to her boss of six months. "Sir?"_

" _That's Miss Morris, over there, isn't she?" he questioned with an expressionless face._

 _Hermione stood up, suddenly feeling mortified – and utterly mad at her assistant, too – when all the eyes in the boardroom focused on her. She kept her gaze locked with Rogers' obsidian one. "That's right, sir."_

" _Would you kindly go, tend to her?"_

 _Exhaling in relief, Hermione nodded quickly and leapt off her seat, straight towards the glass partition which Cecilia Morris stood across._

" _What?" she hissed as soon as she was out of the room._

 _Cecilia nervously swallowed, gesturing to her left._

 _Hermione directed her angry gaze in the direction, and―_

 _Didn't believe her eyes, at first. Four years of Quidditch had done him some good – okay, a_ lot _of good – and, dare she think, four years of living on his own had groomed him up, as well? She wouldn't have recognized him, had he not been her best friend of more than ten years._

 _When his fidgeting hands became obvious and his bright smile began to falter, she flashed him a brilliant one of her own. "Ron!"_

 _The tall, redhead smiled again, sheepishly. "Hey, Hermione."_

 _Hermione marched towards him, her eyes wide. "What―_ when _did you come back?"_

 _He shrugged a shoulder. "About an hour ago, I guess. Listen, 'Mione, can we talk?"_

 _Hermione blinked, taken aback. They said the British had an accent? They were wrong. Ronald Weasley, a_ British _, had caught an accent when away from home!_

 _Her chuckle earned her a pair of raised, red eyebrows. Hermione cleared her throat. "Sure."_

 _They moved down the hallway, and settled on bench in the atrium at the end._

" _How have you been?" Ron asked without missing a beat._

 _Hermione smiled, sadly. "Been better," she said. His face immediately fell, and she felt guilty. "Hey, I didn't mean to_ blame _you," she rushed to explain. "It's just…_ everything _, really, Ron. This new job – the new,_ irritating _boss, and no time for myself."_

 _Ron seemed to ease slightly. "Yeah? Well, I haven't been exactly_ peachy _, either, then," he mumbled. "Quidditch takes the majority of my energy. I'm left with practically no time for myself, as well. Of course, except meals and the workout."_

 _Noticing the quirk to his lips, Hermione smiled back. "So, um… found someone?"_

 _His face immediately became guarded._

" _I mean… you know… it's―it isn't a_ bad _thing, if you have," she stuttered out. "It's good, in fact."_

 _Ron let out a long groan. "This is_ awkward _, 'Mione!"_

 _Hermione slunk back in her place. He wasn't wrong. "I think," she started, fiddling with her fingers, "it_ might _become less awkward if we dealt with the grand elephant in the room. You know, instead of skirting around it."_

 _He let out a resounding breath. "Damn straight," he exclaimed, sitting straight. "Actually, that_ is _one of the reasons why I came to see you."_

 _Hermione nodded. "Good. That's –_ good _. So…"_

" _So, Hermione," he began, blue eyes fixed on her, an urgency shining in them. "Our breaking up was all… I don't know, tears and_ snot _?" Hermione pursed her lips to hide a smile. Again, he wasn't wrong. "So… it calls for a closure, aye?"_

 _Hermione sniffed. "We have to be practical, yes. I can't quit serving the Wizarding society that we worked so hard to build up."_

 _She paused, frowning slightly when she didn't feel particularly_ agonized _by what she was about to say. There was that slight sense of sadness in her that came with loss, in general, but nothing extreme. The previous time they did this, she had been all over the place, for a while. Hell,_ Ron _had_ wept _!_

 _Maybe time really_ did _heal wounds. She took a breath. "And you cannot quit Quidditch for my sake," she stated. "I guess―"_

"I guess _," he cut her with a small smile, "that this would be our closure."_

 _And, just like that, a weight was lifted off her chest, taking her by surprise._

 _She stood up when he did, and eased herself into his embrace. "Friends?" she mumbled into Ron's decidedly_ more _muscular shoulder – that was covered by a woolen clothing that was_ not _a Weasley jumper, for a change._

 _He chuckled, nodding against her head. "Always."_

* * *

Hermione feels as if she is on autopilot.

It doesn't make any sense, if she thinks about it. He broke up with her – tore her apart in the very worst way possible. Why the hell is she so _concerned_ about him?

She shouldn't have been bothering, right now. He doesn't deserve it.

But, that utterly loathsome threat in the letter has struck a nerve in her. Draco – the Draco she has known; the guy she has loved with all her being – is not capable of such a crime. She can smell conspiracy and her heart threatens to come to a stop when she thinks of the possibility of Draco being _manipulated_.

She _has_ to know what is going on.

She walks down the Ministry Atrium, ignoring the people she passes on her way.

"Hermione?"

She jumps, taking a step back as she comes face to face with the last person on earth she wants to see, right now. Well, not _The Last,_ but close enough.

"Mister Rogers," she breathes out, mentally cataloguing her emotions so that her boss doesn't catch a whiff of her mental state, or _worse_ , her private life.

But looking at the almost pity reflected upon his tan face, Hermione suddenly feels suffocated.

"I'm sorry," Ricky Rogers says, pressing his lips into a thin line and shaking his head in what Hermione supposes is sympathy. "I read. It is _despicable_ what happened, Hermione. Because I'm fully certain that _you_ didn't do anything wrong―"

"Sir!" Hermione interjects, her blood curdling at all the scenarios that prop up in her mind at his words. "What did you… _read_?"

Rogers frowns. He looks genuinely baffled. "Today's _Prophet_ , of course," he exclaims, drawing attention of some passers-by.

Hermione, though, feels _nauseous_. "The… _Prophet_ ," she croaks out in a barely recognizable voice, her focus on the surroundings losing as she concentrates on getting lungs-full of air in.

"Yes," Rogers states with a shrug. "The report was about Draco Malfoy breaking up his two-year long relationship to get together with Lucius' secretary. Honestly, Hermione, I'm reconsidering the offer these Malfoys have given me. This seems like a lousy lot, the Malfoys, and…"

Hermione tunes the idiot's rants out. She wants to smack his face, actually. And, in fact, why _isn't_ she doing _that_ instead of merely standing there and thinking of the sources that could have leaked such a personal event of her life, _overnight_. And what more the said source can leak after _tonight_ …

She swallows her panic when she notices how the already small number of people in the Atrium is thinning further by the minute.

"Sir," she snaps, eyes fastened over his shoulder, at the Ministry's lift. "I'd better make a move."

She stalks off, then, not bothering to respond to his calls. Then, after taking a place in the elevator, and ignoring the weird stares she's getting because she's going _into_ the building, at closing time, she glances back at the place where Rogers had stood, only to discover that he's already left. She sags back against the wall in relief, and reaches up to clench her fist about one of the supports.

There is a jolt, and the lift begins to descend backwards. There is another jolt, and the lift falls down.

Hermione's unoccupied hand traces the shape of her wand, tucked in her left back pocket, as her surroundings begun to grow darker. She has fought through a war that she hadn't been certain she'd come out alive of, and yet, right now, she can feel her nerve endings _tensing_ up.

She realizes, with immense surprise, that the knowledge of Harry being present somewhere in this building is calming her down, in a way.

The elevator stops, not five seconds later, and she steps out on jittery feet.

Her office isn't too far away from the elevator; just the second door, on the right, in the corridor that joins the lift to the atrium.

She takes a deep breath and plucks out her wand. " _Lumos_."

She steps forth and gazes at the door to her office. Her name in gold, over a black nameplate, gleams back at her in the dim, wand-light. A shiver of revulsion travels down her spine at the possibility of _her_ bring here – of that _bitch_ meandering about her office.

" _Alohomora_ ," she mumbles before stepping through, and―

" _Petrificus Totalus_!"

" _Silencio_!"

Blood freezes in her veins, and she stands, at a loss, when her wand falls from her motionless fingers.

She wasn't alert _enough_! What is she―

"Well, well, well," drawls a voice in the pitch black room, making the hair at the back of her neck stand at end, "glad you came, _Miss Granger_."

Hermione's heart stops beating.

The voice does _not_ belong to a female. The voice belongs to someone she knows…

* * *

 _Not a Grand Suspense, but a cliffhanger, nonetheless._

 _So. Someone asked me to continue with the present and cut the past short. Guess what? **I ain't doing that**! This is how I planned this story – this is how I'm keeping it._

 _To compensate the large – ungodly – gap, I've made this, by far, the largest chapter of the story._

 _Drop your thoughts!_

 _Do tell me what length is more preferred, though. I'll try to stick by it._

 _xoxo,_

 _Aishwarya!_


	7. It's Never Coming Back

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Yes, this is an update. Surprised? I don't know what happened – this has just flown out of me. Thank you for sticking by, dear readers!

This chapter is larger the previous one – I don't know what's happening – and the second half of this has Ginny's POV. Tell me what you think of it?

Let's hope I can keep up with the frequency. Go ahead!

* * *

 **7 : It's Never Coming Back**

* * *

When he decides to be honest, Draco knows he'd be a wreck. He doesn't _want_ to be honest, hence. He doesn't want to acknowledge the brashness, the unnecessary _haste_ by which he has thrown the one love of his life, out of his life.

Maybe his mother was as correct as she always is.

Maybe he shouldn't have drawn immediate conclusions from what he'd overheard – maybe he should have given her a chance to explain. Though, explain _what_? He has no idea.

And this where the contradictions begin.

On one hand, he knows, as properly as he can, what he heard. And saw. And _that_ pierces at his heart like nothing else. He gave her what he never had to anyone before – his honesty, his trust, his wholehearted _love_.

And, what did she do? She tore out his heart, threw it away, and punched him where she knew it would hurt the most. She _pretended_ to feel for him what he actually did for her. She lied to his face – all the while laughing behind his back, ridiculing his foolishness―his _naivety_.

He shouldn't have expected any less, anyway. Well, actually, he _hadn't_ expected any less. He'd always – from the very beginning of their relationship – feared what has happened. He'd always been scared of losing her – of not measuring up to what she deserved.

After all, she is a war heroine, and him a war criminal.

He let's out a sigh, hoping to Merlin that the heaviness in his heart lifts – the heaviness that comes with what he thinks on the _other_ hand.

Because both his parents _and_ Pansy think so, Draco has a reason to believe that he should have given her a chance to explain. His mother, as it is, has walked out till further notice. _That_ mere action is a big indication to how poorly she thinks of his handling of this situation.

He has always believed his mother. When she says something isn't right, that damn thing has _got_ to be wrong. And, right in this scenario, it is him.

His thoughts suddenly tumble down, onto Laura.

He groans, reaching forward to take a sip from the crystal decanter of Firewhiskey he is sat with.

Why the hell did he have to use _her_? That stupid blonde has been missing since yesterday, and he has a very bad feeling about it.

What if she _isn't_ as flattered to be associated with him as he'd supposed she would be? He did catch him glancing his way, at one too many occasions, but that could have meant anything.

Deep down, Draco feels as if he's missing something major about all of the happenings of yesterday and today combined, and that doesn't sit well with him. Something seems out of sorts.

But then, he has lost – _sent away_ , in fact – the only woman that he ever dreamt of spending his life with, and that is meant to leave an impact on his brain's functioning.

Sounds emanating from downstairs catch his attention, and Draco looks, miserably, towards his bed chambers. After the events of last night, he couldn't get himself to enter that place.

Currently, he is lying down in the sitting room, outside, with his back towards the staircase.

"You have a visitor." His father's baritone, surprisingly, does not irritate him.

Draco grunts his assent, without turning to look at the man. "Who?"

"Mate?"

Draco lets out an elongated sigh. _Of course_ he would visit. And, secretly, Draco had _hoped_ that he did, too.

"Blaise," he murmurs, looking over his shoulder at the worried face of his best friend. "Why're you here?"

Blaise scoffs at him, refusing to answer his almost-rhetoric question.

His eyes travel over to his father, who isn't looking at him. He probably notices his gaze, though, because Lucius lets out a sigh. "It's been a day, and your mother has yet to contact me," he states, and Draco winces when he catches the underlying gloom in his voice. "This is the longest that the two of us have gone without contact – except for during the War, of course." His jaw visibly tightens. "And I'm not liking this, _one bit_."

Draco sighs, again, lowering his gaze to his own, bare feet. "I'll talk to you later, father."

A snort from his father makes him look up again. He flinches back from the sneer plastered over the elder Malfoy's face. "Oh, _spare me_ , son."

In a flourish of flowing, deep grey robes, his father scurries down the stairs.

Draco looks at Blaise, then, tiredly. Blaise eyes widen, and Draco has to cock an eyebrow to break the dark-skinned man's stupor.

"What… happened to your _face_?" Blaise asks, taking tentative looking steps towards the settee Draco is sprawled over.

Draco shrugs a single shoulder. "Pansy."

Blaise's eyebrows hike up. "Oh. I thought that, y'know, maybe Granger did… Wait. _Pansy_?" he almost yelps in shock. "She's back _here_?"

Draco nods. "Met her two days back, at the Ministry."

Recalling _that_ hurts, as well, Draco realizes with a deep sigh. How happy – utterly _gleeful_ – had he been at that time? Little had he known about what he was going to encounter when he reached that damned cafeteria.

"Two days? But this wound looks pretty fresh, man," Blaise comments with a frown.

Draco shuts his eyes, leaning back in his seat. "I went to her place, last night. Was there, till a few hours back."

Blaise' _hum_ carries an undertone of disbelief. "Let me guess – she saw that article and kicked you out?"

Draco chuckles, humorlessly. "No, actually," he mumbles. "She read that article, sat by me with utter patience while I told her everything, and _then_ punched me in the eye." He lifts a hand to trace the swollen, blue skin outlining his left eye. "Then she kicked me out."

"Honestly, Draco?" The bitter stroke to his voice makes Draco want to brace himself for what Blaise is about to say. "I don't blame her."

Draco releases a slow, self depreciating laugh. "Oh, I know that. I know that, _alright_."

"No, but really. What happened with Granger wasn't actually the major driving force, I'm sure," Blaise offers with a shrug when Draco sits back up to look at him with interest. "It must've been the involvement of that Katrina woman. The―the fact that you replaced Granger that fast – whatever be the reason – must've scratched at her feminist side." He paused to let out a breath, while Draco just wonders if that is how the rest of the world sees it, too – that he has _replaced_ Hermione Granger. "Who _is_ she, anyway? The blondie?"

"Father's assistant at the office," Draco grumbles, ready for the infamous lecture on ethics that Blaise is fond of.

Surprisingly, Blaise merely groans in response, and rests his head back against the high-back sofa he is sat on. "That's a really shitty thing to do, Drake," he mutters, lips barely parted. He blinks, up at the ceiling. "If―if you don't mind me asking… what happened―"

"I do," Draco cuts him, sharply, causing the other wizard to grimace.

"Alright."

They sit in a not-so-comfortable silence for moments, before Blaise lets out a sigh.

Draco looks at him, expectedly. Nothing. "What?" he snaps.

"I'd never imagined there'd be a day―"

"Malfoy! _Malfoy_!"

The two wizards jumps up, and Draco rushes towards the fireplace in his bedroom, dropping to his knees to respond to the floo-call. His eyes widen when he finds Harry Potter's face looking back at him with a panicked expression on his face.

"What― _Potter_? I'm―"

Potter cuts off his sputters with a groan through his visibly clenched jaw. "Come through. _Right now_. I'm at my office, and there's a _massive_ emergency."

Draco blinks, his brain running in wild directions, drawing a sorts if worst scenarios before him. He has almost forgotten about the other person in the room, when Blaise places a hand on his shoulder.

"What's up, Potter?" Blaise asks, leaning past Draco while he sits back and bites down on his lower lip. " Is someone in danger?"

Potter let's out a sigh before he nods. "Hermione."

Everything comes to a standstill – the occurrences of the last two days vanish in the blink of an eye – and Draco is screaming bloody murder as he stands up. "What happened?" he yells, pushing his face into the fireplace.

"I… I can't…" Potter looks as baffled as he's never seen him look before. "Come through, Malfoy. You, too, Zabini."

Potters face disappears, and the next moment is like a flash of lightning. Draco jumps into the still warm fireplace, clenching his teeth to stop them from chattering. Honestly, after all that has happened, why is he _still_ so much peeved at the possibility of Hermione being in danger.

The answer is obvious.

But, not dwelling on it, Draco simply accepts the floo powder that Blaise offer him, his hands shaking, and clears his throat. "Auror Potter's Office!"

The usual procedure of getting g sucked into the floo network leaves him queasy for the first time ever in his life. And bes been travelling through flood since he was five.

Coughing out a cluster of smoke, Draco steps out of the fireplace. Potter is looking at him with apprehension written all over his face. "You… okay, there?"

Draco nods, once, before recalling that he's still sporting a fabulously blackened eye that he had refused to glamour away. Well. That, and his feet his bare. He probably looks like a homeless raccoon.

"I'm fine. What―what is it?" he asks, absentmindedly patting his trouser to look for his wand. His molars grind together when he realizes that he's left it back – and he has no idea _where_.

The floo _whooshes_ behind him, and before Draco can look up, Blaise is already speaking.

"Looking for this?"

His redwood wand with its Dragon Heartstring core looks weird in Blaise's hand. Nevertheless, nodding gratefully, Draco extracts it.

While Potter returns to his enormous desk and gets down to look for something, Draco casts a glamour charm on his face, and, picking up a broken quill off the couch sitting next to him, transfigures a pair of Muggle loafers for himself.

"This."

Draco looks up to find Blaise frowning at the parchment that Potter holds in his hand. The expressions on the Auror's face are tensed, while his best mate just looks utterly confused.

"What's this, Potter? A page off _Tom Riddle's diary_?" Blaise asks around a snarl, visibly frustrated.

Draco clicks his tongue, moving forward to take the letter from Potter's hand. "That was blank, in reality, Blaise. This is… a letter!" he ends on a gasp when he notices Hermione's name written in a very familiar penmanship. " _Fuck_!" he curses, stumbling back and dropping on the couch as he reads.

In his hindsight, he can make out Potter trying to explain something to a very worked up Blaise. But Draco cannot be bothered by that. He is reading a _threat_.

Air is knocked out of his lungs, when he realizes that he has made, not one, but _two_ grand mistakes.

* * *

 _Draco let out a sigh. In retrospect, it was pretty stupid what he was doing, right now. But then, he was too busy hiding his face from people looking his way, to worry about thinking retrospectively._

 _He's waiting, in the Atrium down the corridor that Granger's office is located in, next to a fireplace that her assistant told him was what she used to leave when she worked late._

 _And she was working late, tonight._

 _It was already past seven, and Draco's patient was slowly draining from the wait of over two hours._

 _Suddenly, there was commotion in the corridor he stood next to, and―_

 _Hermione Granger bumped into him, catching him unawares for a moment, before he composed himself and stepped back._

" _Malf―_ Malfoy _?" she breathed out, her eyes wide and mouth agape._

 _Draco cleared his throat and slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers to give her a suave, laid back impression of him. Not that she didn't have one too many impressions of him_ already – _most of them being unpleasant, too._

" _A word?" he asked, not bothering with formalities. It hadn't been on a nice note, anyway, when they last met._

 _Her expressions changed, then, morphing into rage from her earlier surprise. "No."_

 _Draco stood gaping while she brushed past him to reach the fireplace._

" _Granger!_ Granger _!" He dashed after her, grabbing her by her upper arm to spin her around._

 _Her mouth was open, probably in incredulity, and eyes were blazing with obvious, untamed fury. "Hand off. Right_ now _, Malfoy!"_

 _Flinching away, Draco took a step back, raising his palms up in a defensive stance. "Alright. No harm done – I'm not coming near you." Just as she was about to turn back, again, he spoke. "I want to apologize, Granger. Please."_

 _She froze mid-step. Draco internally grimaced. Begging a Muggle-born to listen to his apology? His ancestors must be having a gala time in their graves._

" _What did you say?" she asked, cautiously, visibly calming down._

" _I… I was an_ arse _, that day. In father's library. I said stuff that I shouldn't have," he muttered, looking away when her eyebrows hiked up, an expression of disbelief passing her face. "It was slightly… no,_ very _inappropriate_."

 _Granger was assessing him through narrowed eyes when Draco finally looked back at her. "You mean that?" she asked in a low voice._

 _Draco nodded, vigorously._

 _She shrugged, then. "Great. Apology accepted."_

 _Draco jumped towards her and stepped between the fireplace and the small brunette, when Granger tried to turn away again. With a gasp, she took a step back._

" _So… would you, you know, take me back into the meetings?" he asked her, lower lip pressed between his teeth._

 _Granger outright scoffed at him. "Oh,_ pardon me _, Malfoy! Do you know a secret?" she asked in a hiss. He was slightly nervous by her fierceness, but didn't let it show. "Your mum –_ Narcissa _requested me to do this for your dad."_

 _Draco blinked. "Is… that supposed to be a_ secret _? Because I already knew it."_

 _She faltered for a moment, and Draco picked up that she had no clue about his knowledge. Silly bint. "And she did so through Andromeda," she continued, then. "So, the_ only _reason why I agreed to help, was Andromeda's pleading face and her request that she didn't want her dear sister's family falling to streets."_

 _Draco shuddered at her words. But, however much might that thought scare him, Draco was well aware that it was the truth. Their investors had all withdrawn, and there wasn't a single Knut in the name of funds for_ Felicis Potions _in the Gringotts locker of the company's name._

" _So. It's a_ favor _I'm doing to you, Draco," Granger said after a moment. Her eyes were fixed upon some place over his shoulder. "Don't push your luck." She looked at him, then. Draco hung his head. "By the way," she said again as she rounded him to step into the fireplace, "you shouldn't be offended. I was just coming clean."_

 _Draco's fists clenched at his sides when he noticed her smug smirk and the victorious gleam in her eyes. "While we're on the topic of coming clean," he grit out through his teeth, turning around to face her, once more, "let_ me _share a secret, too." She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he shot back – what he presumed was – a venomous smirk. "I'm_ crazily _attracted to you."_

 _She reared back, her eyes wide and mouth agape. Draco relished in her horror-stricken reaction, even when it_ did _send a pang of hurt in him. Did she_ really _still loathe him?_

" _I'm attracted to your body. Fucking_ crazy _about all of your luscious curves," he stated, throatily, letting his eyes trace the breasts that he'd spent the previous months fantasizing about, down to her petite waist – everything elegantly held in a fitted pencil skirt and a chiffon shirt. Her Ministry robes did little to hide her from his scrutiny, despite her recoiling further into the fireplace. "And your awfully bright brain, as well."_

 _Well,_ that _was a lie. He was exactly_ ' _attracted'_ _to her brain, even though he_ did _respect her intelligence._

" _I…" she breathed out, her chest heaving with her quickened breathing. "It's―it's inappropriate, Malfoy! Just… just leave me be, you," she muttered, ducking her head, and Draco knew that at least_ some _of his attraction was mutual._

 _With a self-satisfied smirk, he watched as she flooed off to her flat in Diagon Alley. "'Til the next time, Granger."_

* * *

Ginny Weasley is speeding down to her boyfriend's office. No logical explanations, no reasoning – she's simply worried about Hermione. And, honestly, she isn't even completely certain about what she is going to _say_ to Harry, once she gets to him.

Maybe she'll ask him to accompany her to Hermione's department? He's a Ministry employee, he has access to all the places after closing, too.

Sighing, she shakes her head as she takes the final turn for the corridor that leads to Harry's office. Then she stops short at the voices of agitated conversation emerging from the room, echoing about the hallway.

One of them, she recognizes as Harry's; the other is quite foreign.

"...don't know what it is, but it isn't _blank_ , Zabini."

Harry has Blaise Zabini in his office, Ginny concludes with a nod. Never breaking her pace, she strains her ears.

"But – didn't you say Granger… Merlin, Potter, Granger would've _checked_ it for spells!"

Hermione's name has Ginny's heart freezing in her chest. What the hell has _happened_?

She cannot make out the muttered response by Harry, but she breaks into a run.

As it is, Zabini's presence isn't exactly a _comfort_. The guy works at Magical Sports Equipment Department, and there isn't a way Harry would have had any _professional_ need of him. That means this is personal – and _that_ means that this is related to Malfoy.

 _Malfoy_.

Oh, how she wants to wring the bastard's _neck_! Quite honestly, Ginny cannot recall the last time she'd felt _this_ furious on a person. Malfoy, in all his blonde, picture-perfect glory, has done to Hermione what Ron couldn't. She shouldn't be comparing the two of them, Ginny is aware, but abiding by it becomes difficult when one of them is her own brother.

Ginny recalls the droopy, upset face Hermione had sported for about a week, before she'd collected her bearings and dived headfirst into a fresh start. Her relationship with Ron had, then, become, "an unfortunate experiment that didn't work."

To her utter dismay – even though it has merely been two days since the devastating incident – Ginny cannot see the recollection and fresh start bits happening to Hermione, anytime soon, this time round.

She pushes the door open as soon as it is in her hand's range. "What… Harry, I…" she chokes out between heaves, limping into the small place where her boyfriend stands with a grim look on his face.

The look lifts when he meets her eyes, though, and blatant concern takes over. " _Ginny_? What the― _why are you here_?" he almost screams at her, his voice oddly high-pitched as his defeated stance changes and he takes a step towards her.

Ginny is just about to respond, when her eyes fall upon the one thing – _person?_ – that she'd dreaded coming across.

Malfoy is slumped over the small couch kept next to the fireplace in Harry's office, and Ginny cannot quite decipher the meaning of what she is seeing. "What is _he_ doing here?" she spits out, mouth twisted in distaste as she gives the blond's haggard state a once over.

She chooses to overlook that he seems to not have eaten, drank, or slept in the entirety of today and yesterday. Well, maybe not _drank_. The bags under his eyes indicate just how much time he has spent in _drinking_ – maybe not a very advisable drink, and maybe he took out time for that off his sleeping hours, too.

"He's, um, _out_ ," comes a stuttered explanation from behind her, and that is when she notices how much _more_ worried than Harry does Blaise Zabini look. "There was, uh… Potter, you tell her."

She immediately stiffens. "I heard you talking about Hermione. What's wrong?"

Harry frowns at her. "Yes, we were… But, before that… what do _you_ know, Gin?" He takes a step towards her, extending a hand for her to take. "You came in pretty worked up."

Ginny swallows thickly even as she accepts his hand and walks up to Harry. "Nothing much, really, just… She was going to visit her office," she mutters her gaze still locked on Malfoy's still form. Harry's breath catches, next to her, and Ginny turns to frown at him. "What has happened?"

"What the _hell_ did Granger want to do at her office at closing time?"

"She had to collect some files," she absentmindedly responds to Zabini's question, her eyes still fixed on her boyfriend. "Harry." He looks at her. "Is she _safe_?"

Harry pulls his lower lip between his teeth, and exhales shakily, his breath washing over her forehead. "I… I don't know, Gin."

A gasp tumbles out of her mouth and she takes a horrified step away from him. " _What_?" she yelps, clasping a hand on her clammy forehead as she assesses the two wizards before her.

Zabini seems to be having a muffled, cursing spree, his eyes shut. She looks back at her wizard. Harry looks so tense, _so_ shaken, that she has to take a step closer to him in a comforting fashion.

"What has _happened_ , Harry?" she whispers, keeping a palm, flat, over his upper arm, attempting to ease him down, even though her own heart is threatening to jump out of her chest from all the awful scenarios her brain is making up.

Harry lets out a sigh, and rubs his eyes, huffs fingers sliding under the glasses that have ridden down his nose. Pushing them back up, he looks at her with a tired face. "She sent me a―a―a _parchment_ , today, and – and we're not sure what it _means_ , actually, because―"

She snatches the piece of parchment kept on Harry's desk before he can complete. Her breath hitches. "But, it's―"

"― _because_ it's blank," Harry finishes with a pointed look.

Except for a tiny scrawl on the top, right corner, in Hermione's beautiful penmanship, the entire sheet is blank.

 _ **Harry – Check this out, and try to find more. Secure Draco, if need be.**_

– _**H.**_

Deflated, Ginny desperately scans the piece of yellow parchment, turns it over, and finally reaches for her wand, intending to cast detection spells on it.

"No use," Zabini mumbles from his perch at the opposite edge of Harry's desk. "It has been charmed to not be visible to anyone, but Granger. And Draco."

Ginny's eyes snap to Harry's, mouth falling open. " _What_?" she gasps. Receiving nothing from him, she twists in place to look at the still unconscious ex-Slytherin. "He's―oh, _Godric_ , why aren't the two of you _waking_ him up?" she cries out, fisting a hand in her straight, red locks.

Before she can gather herself enough to grip her wand and point it at Malfoy, Harry's hand covers hers and he pulls her closer to himself. "He's already read it, Gin," he murmurs, his loving tone soothing her nerves in that incomprehensible way that it always does. "He panicked after he did, though. We had to give him a dose of Calming Draught."

She leans into him, letting her body go lax, and Harry pulls her firmly to his side. Taking a deep breath, she shuts her eyes when Harry's familiar citric scents, mixed with the mild, musky smell that is uniquely his, invades her senses. Basking in the familiar comfort, she forces her coiled up mind to ease down.

The peace is distributed, though, when the door opens, again, and a jovially grinning Ronald Weasley enters. His face immediately drops. "What's…" He trails off, and Ginny takes a step away from Harry when her brother's gaze slides over them, to finally rest on Zabini. "You guys having a reunion, or what?"

Harry sighs. "There's been an incident, Ron."

Ron frowns, stepping in and shutting the door after him. "Has it?"

Zabini walks up to the front of the room. "Granger sent Potter a piece of parchment that can only be read by her and Draco." Ron's eyes slide over to Malfoy, then, and his eyebrows hike comically high up on his forehead. "And he's under the influence of a Calming Draught that would be getting to work in some time."

"I get that he's already read that, um… _parchment_?" Ron hedges, walking up to the couch and settling down next to Malfoy's sprawled form.

While Zabini explains the details, Ginny realizes that both her boyfriend and her brother are behaving very casually around Malfoy. And, even if she hadn't been there for Hermione, today, she wouldn't have been able to look at the guy's face who has plundered her life as bad as Malfoy has, without at least punching him in the nose. That leaves her with one conclusion: Ron and Harry have absolutely _no idea_ about what has happened between him and Hermione.

She takes a breath. Instead of wondering about how the two of them have missed the grand headlines that had been plastered all over the Daily Prophet, today, Ginny decides to consider the two choices she has before her. Would it be wise to keep shut and let this grave matter at hands proceed the way it is, or would it be _wiser_ to tell Harry about Malfoy's shite actions and let him hex the blond to death.

However much the second choice seem tempting, she knows what logically correct action would be. Hermione's safety comes first, and Malfoy seems to be playing a crucial role in the process of ensuring that.

"Ginny?"

Ginny blinks, looking up to find her brother looking at her with a harsh, and yet desperate gaze.

"What?" she whispers, shakily.

"There is a possibility that Hermione's _here_ , in the building, right now?"

Ginny blinks. "Uh, she _was_ about to come here, so… _Maybe_?" Honestly, Ginny doesn't know. She _had_ been in a hurry to leave when Ginny left Hermione's place. But, this piece of _parchment_ is something that could mean anything.

Ron's growl of frustration is too loud in the office. Ginny grimaces. "Are you guys _actually_ not considering visiting her office _once_?" he yells out, his wide eyes eying Harry in incredulity. "What's _wrong_ with you?"

With the look of flustered shock on his face, Ginny can tell that Harry is wondering the same.

"Is someone gonna accompany me, or am I on my own?" Ron asks over his shoulder as he walks up to the door.

Zabini clears his throat. "You deal with him, Potter," he states, jerking a thumb in Malfoy's direction. "I'll come with you, Weasley," he tells Ron, then, and the two of them exchange nods before stepping out of the office.

In the resultant quiet, Ginny lets out a breath and allows Harry to hug her close, again.

They stay like that for moments before Harry speaks. "That isn't the worst idea, actually."

"Checking the office?" She breathes out, deeply. "I'm too confused to function properly, right now. Sorry, Harry."

Harry clicks his tongue. She can feel him shake his head, but he doesn't speak.

"How did you figure out about the charm?" she asks, after a moment.

She feels him shrug. "I'm an Auror." He hums, thoughtfully. "Hermione's words said that this was something important. But – it was blank. I immediately thought of a jinx." He tagged l takes a breath. "I cast a detection charm on it, and it detected magical interference. My natural doubts went to this being charmed to allow selective viewing of its contents. And because her words were visible, having been written by a Muggle pencil, I gathered that the _ink_ was jinxed and not the parchment." He pauses for a moment. "And by the clue she wrote, I figured that Malfoy might be of use in unveiling this."

Ginny snuggles closer to him, gritting her teeth to keep a check on her irritation at the mention of Malfoy. "What do we do?" she asks, instead.

"We wait for him to wake up. That _is_ what'll tell us what this is all about, after all." Harry sounds resigned.

"And when is he going to wake up?" she mumbles into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist when he rakes a hand through her hair.

"Anytime, now. The potion starts working after ten minutes, at most. It's been more than."

* * *

 _Thoughts?_

 _xo, Aishwarya!_


	8. Looking For a New High

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Yolo! I'm late, I know, but that's not new. So. Can we all please stop predicting what's going to happen, and just focus on what _is_ happening? Yes? Yes.

* * *

 _HAPPY WOMEN'S DAY, YOU GORGEOUS FEMALES OUT THERE!_

* * *

I calculated and divided the remaining storyline, and this is how it'll be: **12 Chapters + 1 Epilogue**. So. Now you know what to expect.

Side-note #1: My exams begin from this 19th, so... Expect at least two more updates till the 10th of the next month.

Side-note #2: **i-heart-hogwarts** on **TUMBLR** is me. Catch up with my fangirling on Dramione and Riverdale and The Flash and Tom Felton and Emma Watson, okay?

Side-note #3: This chapter has another part from Ginny's POV, and a flashback from her POV, too. Because I love her. There's a bit of Hinny in here, as well. For the record, I'm a Hansy fanatic – Hinny merely relinquish my Jily cravings.

Side-note #4: This is above 5K words, too, so, yay! Love me, y'all!

Thank you all so much for all the reviews and all the support. Cheers!

* * *

 **8: Looking For a New High**

* * *

Faint murmurs of conversation are floating around. The vigour with which her head throbs is worse than any hangover that she has ever experienced before.

 _Wake up_ , her subconscious tells her, out of nowhere, and Hermione frowns.

She squirms in place, a little surprise registering to some corner of her brain when the expected softness of her bed is _not_ what her back experiences. She is trying to wake up, she realizes, but something is…

Oh, God.

Something is not _letting_ her! Has she been given some potion? Has she been _cursed_?

 _Fight, fight, fight,_ her subconscious chants on, _you've got to break out of this!_

Hermione listens to the voice, but fails to comply. Her body feels way too lethargic. Definitely the work of a spell, she deduces. Her high spirits―as high as they _can_ be through the haze of the subconsciousness that she's floating in―lower.

 _No, you idiot, you_ _ **have**_ _to wake up!_

And then, the fog around her thoughts slowly begins to dissipate, and she starts to wake up. At least, her brain does. But she cannot garner enough energy to peel her eyelids back – she cannot move her hands, cannot even move her _fingers_.

Not a surprise, really, if she has been shot by a spell. But if that _is_ true, why the hell can she not remember anything?

Something is _awfully_ wrong with this situation. Well. Other than the very obvious panic in the voice of her subconscious and the supposed curse been cast upon her, that is.

"Awake yet, sleepyhead?"

Hermione jolts with that voice, her head snapping to a side. Her teeth grit together in furious exertion when she focuses on her hands, and she almost sighs in relief when feeling returns to her numb limbs.

She can at least wriggle her fingers and toes. That's an improvement. She cannot yet open her eyes, and so her brows slant further, and she focuses all her strength in straining her ears for all the sounds around her.

There is a periodic crunching sound nearby, accompanied with occasional, heavy clicking – telltale of a pair of high-heeled feet walking around.

"Come on, now," the voice says again, and Hermione jumps, realizing that the crunching is actually caused by this man's – someone that sounds _way too familiar_ – footfalls. "Don't keep us waiting, Hermione. Get up."

Her heart comes to a halt – blood freezing in her veins.

She knows this man, alright. He is _way too familiar_ , alright!

She tries speaking, but all that comes out is a series of coughs. She is breathless when she finishes, and, panting, she swallows past a dry throat.

What the _hell_ has this sick bastard _done_ to her? Why can't she―

Her thoughts are cut off when it all comes back to her. Her fight with Draco – that ever-present throbbing in her heart – her skipping office, being visited by a number of people, receiving a letter that is a threat to Draco, coming to the Ministry, and… being _Stupefied_.

She tries again, and this time, her eyelids finally flutter. Focussing hard, she blinks, repeatedly, and her eyes open a fraction to look at the man leaning over her face.

Her lips pull back in a sneer, a wheeze leaving her when she takes in a big inhale. "It's _you_ ," she spits out, sounding way too breathy to be able to channel all of the hatred bubbling inside of her. " _What_ ―" She cuts herself off, coughing.

He really has done something more than a mere _Stupefy_ , because this condition of her throat is a matter of concern.

She suddenly stops – feeling all sorts of confused. She is missing something here.

When it dawns upon her, she looks back at his sinisterly smiling face with a frown. " _How_ …" She swallows again. "How d―did _you_ …"

"Oh!" His eyebrows hike up, an expression of satisfaction settling over his face. He gestures to someone behind Hermione's seat, and the clicking of heels grows louder. "I had help," he cheerfully declares, gathering the smiling blonde in his arms and planting a quick kiss to her lips.

Caterina looks at Hermione, smirking smugly. "Hello, Granger. I cast his spells for him, yes. Didn't see this coming, did you?" she asks, trailing a manicured fingernail along the jawline of one Ricky Rogers' face.

No, Hermione _certainly_ hadn't.

* * *

 _Hermione hollered with laughter after she finished reading Cormac McLaggen's letter. She couldn't help it. His words had rekindled a memory from her Hogwarts days that she and Harry were always laughing about._

 _Apparently, Mister McLaggen's fate had a bad habit of playing games with him, and he'd ended up with competition on his way to a position in the Magical Sports and Equipment Department of the Ministry. Ironically, his competitor was none other than Hermione's recent ex-boyfriend – the same guy he'd competed with, and lost to, back in her sixth year at school – Ronald Weasley._

 _Hermione chuckled again. Cormac had mentioned, explicitly, that he wanted her to write a recommendation letter to Angelina Johnson, fiancée of George Weasley, and the Head of the Department, about Cormac, and request her to not favour her own would-be brother in-law._

 _She was slightly confused, too, actually, because as far as she knew, Ron hadn't been interested in settling down in London, again, anytime soon. He was very dedicated to the Cannons, and he_ was _their star Beater. Maybe there was some confusion? Maybe it wasn't_ Ron _that was Cormac's competitor?_

 _And, even if it_ was _Ron, it was unlikely that Angelina would favor him. Along with her morals being almost as straight as Hermione's own, the elder witch had been at this Head position for merely two months, too. Favoring people at such an initial stage wasn't going to lead her anywhere._

 _But, nevertheless, Hermione decided to have a word with Angelina. She'd cheated and knocked Cormac off the Gryffindor Quidditch team, once. She owed him._

 _Sighing, Hermione cast a locking charm on the drawers in her desk and got up. It was already past five, and she was about half hour late to her meeting with Lucius Malfoy._

 _Collecting her stuff, quickly, she made a mental self-note of arranging a meeting with Cormac sometime later in the week, as well. Then she left her table, intending to leave through the atrium's fireplace because it gave her the privacy that was much needed when she was flooing to the Malfoy Manor. The thought of the atrium and the fireplace, though, immediately made Hermione recall what she helplessly had been, since the past week – unable to knock it out of her memories._

I'm crazily attracted to you.

 _Draco's voice echoed about her head, and Hermione took in a stuttered breath._

His eyes roved over her, pupils dilated, so much that she could barely make out the silver rings that were his irises. "I'm attracted to your body," he continued in a throaty murmur. "Fucking _crazy_ about all your luscious curves." His eyes zeroed on her breasts, and Hermione couldn't breath...

 _With a deep exhale, Hermione came back to the present. Her cheeks had warmed up by the time she reached the door to her office. Gripping the doorknob, she tried calming her breaths down, enough to make her seem normal if she were to bump into someone on her way to the fireplace, and then pulled it open._

 _She jumped back in surprise, her wand instinctively at the ready when she spotted a figure standing in the corridor, their fist poised to knock―and then deflated in relief – though with more than a little confusion – when she finally made out Harry's face in the dark._

" _Harry," she stated, taking in a deep breath._

 _Harry dropped his hand, giving her a somewhat sheepishly smile, and shrugged. "Hello, stranger."_

 _She let out an awkward laugh, not knowing how to respond. She'd been steering clear of Harry for almost a month – ever since his last visit to her house and the awkward,_ awkward _conclusion to it. She didn't even know what him and Draco had talked about, when they left together, and had only_ prayed _that the stupid blond hadn't spilled off anything that would cause serious issues between her and Harry._

 _After all, she couldn't really trust Draco. And she didn't – not_ one _bit. She was, in fact, almost regretting her decision of helping_ Felicis Potions _, and mentally cursing Andromeda for manipulating her into it._

" _Okay…"_

 _Hermione stopped in her tracks, eyes widening in embarrassment when she noticed how she had locked her office and taken two steps down the corridor, while Harry was still rooted to his spot against the opposite wall, and was looking at her with_ extremely _skeptical eyes._

" _In a hurry, eh?" he asked, taking quick steps to fall in stride with her. Hermione cleared her throat, flashing him―what she hoped was―a guilty smile. "Going somewhere?"_

 _Okay. This was quickly getting out of her hands. He was asking too many questions, and it wouldn't be long before he arrived upon the very topic Hermione was wanting to keep away from their conversation. Already, he was seeming suspicious by what little Hermione had gauged in these past few minutes._

 _Not to mention the fact that Harry actually did seem like he wasn't going to leave anytime soon. And if he continued on to follow her home, she would miss her meeting with Lucius Malfoy. Well. That was something she was hoping to avoid._

" _I'm just going home, Harry," she replied, running a hand through her tangled curls. "Today was stressful, and… I was just hoping to get home quickly and stuff myself with whatever leftovers my fridge would grant me with – and_ sleep _."_

 _Harry laughed at that, shaking his head, and it might have been merely her imagination, but it seemed as if his posture's stiffness loosened, too. "Is that so?" he asked, playfully, and then frowned as if in thought. "Well, how about this – let's grab dinner from somewhere outside. My treat?"_

 _Hermione coughed to cover the gasp that left her._ Shit _! There went her foolish attempts at running away. If she refused now, there was no way Harry would not suspect. In fact, not just_ suspect _, even. She had her doubts that he would force the entire story out of her if she stirred another doubt in him._

 _And telling him the true story?_ That _was one conversation Hermione wanted to delay for as long as nature would allow her to. She'd rather forego it, actually, but that didn't seem like a possibility._

" _Okay," she timidly told him, nodding and trying her best to not seem as reluctant as she felt._

" _So… You said big day. Anything specific?"_

 _Harry didn't exactly_ sound _suspicious, but she had known him long enough to tell when his brain was working too much. Now seemed one of those occasions. And she was actually feeling_ afraid _of his continuous questioning._

 _She had to distract him. And fast._

" _You know, the usual stress that comes with explaining Muggle concepts to clueless wizards," she stalled, shrugging to emphasize how that wasn't a big deal. "But, there_ was _a highlight to this utterly gloomy day, too."_

" _Really? What?" Harry chuckled._

" _You do remember McLaggen, don't you?" she asked, and giggled aloud when Harry burst out laughing. "You_ do _, I see."_

 _Harry looked at her, a wide grin on his face. "_ Of course _, I do, 'Mione. What about him?"_

 _She smiled. She had him, now._

 _And she_ actually did _, she found out, when Harry lost himself in laughs and snorts and general pity on McLaggen's poor fate. He suggested her to meet up with him, then – something that she'd herself been planning upon._

" _I would, yes," she allowed, smiling at Harry when he let out a helpless bark of laughter, again. "But, I'm not sure_ when _. I don't have much time, these days."_

" _Oh, yeah?_ We _haven't been seeing much of the other, either. Have you noticed?" The abrupt bend in the conversation made her stutter, but she nodded in agreement. "Keeping_ way _too busy, I see."_

 _Laughing, nervously, Hermione ducked her head. "The...usual, you know? Campaigns and training and contracts – it's a circus at the office," she told him, hoping that he wouldn't drift back to snarky accusations and taunting tones, again._

 _He hummed in faint acknowledgement. "Lucky that you have a nice office, then, isn't it?" he complimented, looking around. Hermione looked ahead. They still had a few too many miles between them and the Atrium, and she almost wished to_ Apparate _there instead of walking next to her best friend. "No wonder people are dying to work here," he added in a mumble, but she heard him, nevertheless._

 _And she didn't like it – not one bit._ What _did he mean by that? Why was he being so cryptic? What did he know? Why wasn't he asking her in that plain, old blunt fashion that had always been Harry's forte?_

" _Uh, what is that supposed to mean?" She channelled his bluntness for him, asking him what he wasn't telling her._

 _He shrugged, and she almost sighed in relief when they finally stepped into the atrium. "The other day, Malfoy"―Hermione froze at his name; all her muscles stiffened in place and her blood circulation almost skyrocketed, but Harry, in a very Harry-like manner, didn't notice―"confessed something similar. Said he wanted a place here and had applied for it back when you had, too," he continued, turning to look at her when they both stood before the fireplace. Hermione was_ just _holding herself back from biting her nails out of nervousness, because she knew Harry was talking about the conversation from the day he had left her house with Malfoy. "He was at your house to collect your application, remember?"_

 _Oh, she remembered that very well._ Too _well. Because she also remembered his body's heat when he'd pressed up against her and the warmth of his breath, and_ green apples _, and―_

" _Well, he said he was planning to submit another application to Kingsley," Harry continued when Hermione didn't respond, and she finally focussed on what he was speaking. "But then he looked at your files, and realised that he didn't exactly stand a chance against what you had done. Essentially, he said that you're great at what you do."_

 _Hermione stopped breathing for a moment. A weird combination of calm and nervousness was settling into her stomach. Not that a compliment from Draco Malfoy that_ Harry _, of all people, was delivering to her was anything to_ not _be completely shocked about, but Hermione's brain was chanting only the anthem of how Harry suspected that something was going on between her and Draco and_ that _is why he'd been beating around the bush, all this time. Damn him!_

 _Taking an inconspicuous breath, she snorted loudly, rolling her eyes as she went. "Come_ on _, Harry," she said, intentional sarcasm dripping from her voice. "He's_ Malfoy _. When do we_ ever _believe what he says?"_

 _Harry laughed, then, and taking another inconspicuous breath, so did she._

 _Things were under control._

* * *

Ginny looks up when she notices some stirring on the couch in her peripheral vision. And, surely enough, Malfoy is waking up. She lets out a deep breath, nudging Harry. Harry immediately lets go of the enchanted map of the Wizarding London that he'd been looking at, and dashes across the room to hover over Malfoy.

"Malfoy?" Harry calls out, patting at the delirious wizard's face.

Ginny walks up to him, too, and looks at Malfoy just as the blond blinks and sits up. "Potter?" he whispers, looking at the two of them through fluttering eyelashes. "Ginny?"

Ginny growls, lowly, and tugs at her hair to fight agitation. " _Yes_ , you moron, well spotted," she snaps, turning away when Harry shoots her a warning glare.

" _Hermione_ …" Ginny stiffens at the faint whisper. "We have to find her, Potter," Malfoy says in a frantic voice. "She is in danger. A _grave_ danger."

Turning back around, Ginny finds Malfoy looking around with a queer sort of craziness sparkling in his eyes. _Well_ , Ginny thinks, _the Calming Draught has got to leave some marks._

"Potter, we have to hurry," he says again, and Ginny does a double take. Apart from his eyes and his voice, his demeanor is as still as stone.

But then, as he makes a move towards the door, Ginny's wrath gets the better of her. With a snarl, she marches ahead, and, ignoring Harry's calls, pulls Malfoy back by his shirt's sleeve and delivers a hard, resounding slap across his cheek. His face turns to a side, an ugly red outline of her palm blooming all over his pale skin. " _You_ have got nothing to do with it – with _her_ , remember?" she hisses out, narrowing her eyes at his expressions of shock.

"Ginny." Harry's concerned whisper in her ear causes her tightened shoulders to slump, and she turns her head to a side, her teeth tightly clenched. He plants a soft, chaste kiss to her temple, and her jaw loosens, as well. "Hermione's safety is our priority, Gin. Don't lose your head in anger."

She is about to respond when the door blasts open and Padma Patil rushes into the office, her long hair billowing after her. Apart from the fact that she would have no business visiting the Auror offices at such an hour if it wasn't for this emergency, one glance at the terrified expressions on the brunette's face is enough to make Ginny realize that Padma is aware of the situation.

She glances at Harry, confused, but Padma speaks up before Harry can open his mouth. "I received Blaise's Patronus," she exclaims, breathlessly, and Ginny decides to ignore the fact that Blaise is generally a rather unsocial person, and that this act of sending a _Patronus_ to Padma is _really weird_ of him. "Have you got some lead? Have you figured anything out?" Padma asks, desperately, looking between her and Harry.

Harry shakes his head, walking towards his table to pick up the letter that they'd been waiting for Malfoy to wake up for. "Nothing yet," he tells Padma before handing Ginny the letter and gesturing towards Malfoy.

Padma deflates, a concerned frown falling upon her forehead.

"Blaise… Where is he?" Malfoy asks, his clouded eyes fixed on Padma.

Padma jumps, looking around in surprise, before her gaze lands on Malfoy. Immediately, her face contorts into expressions of hope. She walks up to the ex-Slytherin, and clutches his shirt in tight fists. "The letter. _You_ can read it, right?" she asks him, desperately.

With fumbling hands, Ginny hurriedly shoves the parchment towards him. "Yes, he can. Here."

He swallows multiple times, before he speaks. "Dear Miss Granger. I hope you're having a miserable day. I mean, of course you should be...I ensured that, didn't I? But―but… Do not rush to presume that the only threat I posed was to your relationship with your boyfriend. Which I have successfully mutilated. Congratulations on that, by the way." Malfoy stops, shutting his eyes for a moment before he continues. "Anyways, that isn't what I want you to think of, right now. I want you to think about _him_ , but. Because? Your boyfriend's reputation is my next target. What problem do I have with _Draco Malfoy_ , you might think. I would placate you: nothing, other than his intimate acquaintance with you. Sound creepy, do I? How about this: I have a beautiful, three-minute clipping of his intimate times with a lady that isn't you. What more, she doesn't even quite consent to his activities," Malfoy finishes with a catch to his voice, looKing up a Harry, desperately. "This is a lie, Potter, I―"

"I know, Malfoy,"Harry murmurs, shaking his head. Ginny cannot help but agree with that part.

Taking a breath, Malfoy continues again. "Do you catch my drift? No? Oh, come on Hermione… I'm talking about him r―r―aping Laura Caterina, o…" He trails off, biting down his lips, and Ginny cannot look at the terrible image that he makes. "B―but – but you know what else? You can prevent it. I am giving you an opportunity to. So… it is really simple: get down to your office, right now, or else. Well, nothing much, just some juicy details about a loathsome deed committed by the renowned Malfoy Junior, with his current girlfriend, no less, get scattered all over tomorrow's Daily Pro―Pro―" He breaks off, shutting his eyes.

Shocked to the core, Ginny sways in place, and clutches at his hands when Harry's chest meets her back and he holds her in place.

"From," Malfoy continues, without reading, " _you know, don't you_?"

"I certainly do," Harry mutters, before squeezing her hand once and stepping away.

Shaking her head, Ginny leans against the wall they're standing next to. Padma stands frozen in her spot, while Harry swears under his breath and breaks out into action.

" _Expecto Patronum_!" Ginny hears him yell, before he barks instructions at the stag to summon Kingsley. Quickly, he lowers himself next to the fireplace, and floo-calls the Head Auror. "Sir! I need you in my office. There's been a calamity. _Right now_ , sir!"

Malfoy, Ginny passively notices, moves towards Padma and keeps a hand on her shoulder. "You—you know how to do that tracing thing with a mobile phone, don't you? Can you do that with H—H— _Hermione's_?" he brokenly asks, and Ginny is surprised to see how Padma's eyes light up.

"Oh, Krishna, _yes_!" she exclaims, immediately heading towards the fireplace. "I do admit that I don't trust it much at this point, but it's definitely worth a _shot_."

As Padma disappears to her office through the floo – probably intending to bring back some sort of equipment – Ginny's eyes fall back upon Malfoy's frame, and how he's tracing Hermione's words by a shaky finger on the letter in his hands. " _Secure Draco, if need be_ ," he reads from the parchment. "She cared," he whispers, quietly, probably to himself. "After all this, she still – she _still_ cared about me."

Anger shoots through her veins again. Yes, Hermione _did_ care about him, it seems. And he deserves none of it. Not being able to help herself, Ginny walks up to him and shoves him back with her palms flat on his chest. "Yes, she fucking _did_! And no, she fucking _shouldn't have_!" she screams, belatedly aware of the tears streaming down her face. "You idiot! You _arsehole_!"

He looks up, suddenly, his eyes wet and red. "I know."

Startled by his self-depreciation, Ginny takes a step back, and is spun around by a really frustrated looking Harry who has grabbed her by the elbow. He crushes her against his chest, pressing kisses to the crown of her head. "You're not going near him, again, okay?" he softly mumbles to her. "You're not speaking to him – not even _looking_ at him if it bothers you."

Pulling back, Ginny brokenly nods, and Harry quickly wipes her tears off.

"Now. Go help Padma," he tells her, and _then_ does Ginny notice that the other witch is not only back, but has even set up a small unit of strange contraptions at one corner of Harry's office. Swallowing, Ginny shakes her head. No, she doesn't know anything about these equipments, or about a "mobile phone". Yet, Harry grabs her chin between his forefinger and thumb. "No, I'm not, asking you. I'm _telling_ you. You're a strong woman and you're going to _stay_ strong, do you hear?" She does, and so she nods. He quickly kisses her forehead and steps away. " _Go_."

Ginny drags herself over to where Padma is seated. "Um… Any help?" she awkwardly asks.

Padma nods, eagerly, and hands her a sheet of paper which is filled with a series of typical combinations of numbers and alphabets. "These are some codes that I'll need to punch in, once the database loads," Padma instructs, and Ginny doesn't follow anything other than the word 'codes'. She nods, anyway. "Dictate them to me when I say so, please."

Ginny looks back at Harry, and does a double take when she sees that he's holding—a visibly _devastated_ —Malfoy by his shoulders. She listens.

"—I don't know what went down between the two of you," Harry is saying in a soft voice. "And looking at her," he says, jerking his head in Ginny's general direction, "I'm not sure if I even _want_ to. Not to mention how that letter has confused me more than ever. But, Malfoy – I'm going to need your help in finding Caterina."

Ginny shuts her eyes, a bitter taste in her mouth. She tells herself that Harry is being so lenient because he _doesn't now_ —but all she can see is Hermione's shaken up, broken condition after her unconscious body had been sent through the floo at the Burrow, yesterday. She had been almost as traumatized as 'Dromeda and Fleur's recollection of her after she'd been exposed to the Cruciatus curse. Ginny has every reason to believe that she still is.

Even after Harry and Robards leave the office, telling her that they'll all be collecting at the Minister's office, and that she and Padma are supposed to be there after they're done, too, Ginny's eyes are fixated on Malfoy. She watches him as he walks up to the fireplace, probably following through with the instructions that Harry has given him. She watches him and wonders how he managed to pull off what he did. She'd been there with him and Hermione at the initial stages of their relationship. She'd been there to witness his unconditional love for Hermione in his eyes.

It is almost unbelievable, how this all has played out. But, she knows that even if _Hermione_ manages to get past this and accept him back in her life, _she_ is never forgiving Malfoy for what he did to Hermione.

"The codes, Gin." Padma's voice and expectant eyes snap her out of her hateful thoughts, and, with a sigh, she looks away from the vacant spot that Malfoy had been occupying, and focuses on the sheet before her.

* * *

" _No!" Ron exclaimed, rubbing his forehead with two fingers. "I cannot control Pollux, Gin,_ he's _the captain, not me!"_

 _Ginny sighed. She and Ron been engaged in a fierce discussion – a borderline quarrel, actually – about the Chudley Cannons' poor strategies when the team's_ Seeker _wasn't at his best gameplay. And, Ron was continually finding ways of discarding whatever changes Ginny was proposing._

" _Listen, Ron―"_

" _Ginny!" They both paused and looked up. Harry was at the end of the drawing room, his face tensed and brows furrowed. "Do you have a minute?"_

 _Raising her eyebrows, Ginny returned Ron's questioning gaze with a clueless shrug of her own. "What is it, Harry?" she asked her boyfriend, instead._

" _Um, can I have a word? In private?" Harry sounded tired and almost_ frustrated _._

 _Nodding, Ginny had just made to stand up, when Rin gripped her wrist and pulled her back down into the couch. "No, you_ can't _. I'm leaving in a_ week _, Harry, for the World Tournament! I need all the feedback – all the bloody suggestions that I can get."_

 _Harry looked unamused, but Ginny laughed aloud. Pulling Ron's cheek in that icky manner that he hated so much, she got up. " I'll be back before you know it, brother," she teased, ducking before Ron could deliver the punch he was aiming for her head._

 _Then she straightened her clothes and passed Harry a comforting smile. "Gin," he breathed out when she neared him, pulling her close and planting a kiss on her lips._

 _Her cheeks immediately flushing, she pulled back and looked around. Luckily, no one was around, except―_

 _Ron was pushing the parchment that Ginny had jotted down the weak points of his team on, under a decidedly_ very _disinterested Angelina's nose, and, "I need help, Missus about-to-become George Weasley."_

 _Rolling her eyes, Ginny caught hold of Harry's hand and slipped into the nearest bedroom. "What?" she asked, as soon as he had shut the door._

 _Harry removed his glasses and sighed. "It's about Hermione, and… Malfoy."_

 _Ginny's eyebrows hiked up with interest. "Oh?"_

" _Yes, they…" He faltered, frowning. "They're growing close. Like,_ really _close. How – I don't know._ Why – _I really want to know!" He threw his hands up, shaking his head, and settled on the bed._

" _What?" she asked, squinting at him._

" _Right?" he exclaimed, and Ginny gaped._ **What** was **right**?! " _And the funniest part is that I don't think Hermione is_ herself _aware of it. They're like… flirting without any knowledge of it. And that is something_ big _, because Malfoy doesn't even work in the same building as her!"_

 _Ginny swallowed. What had gotten into Harry? Ginny couldn't see. She cleared her throat. "Well… they_ do _say there's a fine line between love and hate," she hedged, tentatively._

 _Harry groaned, eyes shutting and face twisting as if he was in physical pain. "You_ approve _of it?" he almost moaned as if in physical pain, too._

 _Ginny looked at his bowed, black head. "She's her own person, Harry, what do you mean_ approve _?" she asked him, incredulously. "I'm not a_ fan _, no, but I'm not going to be a mother hen, either!"_

 _She scoffed, furious beyond belief at his attitude, and was ready to walk away when Harry grabbed her arm. "_ Okay _, I'm sorry!" he said, looking into her eyes. "I'm sorry."_

 _She tugged her arm out of his grip. "Say that to_ her _," she muttered, then, already knowing what such behavior of Harry's was going to yield in future._

" _What?" Harry bleated, now grasping both of her_ hands _in his._

 _She rolled her eyes, and, changing the roles, curled her fingers around his wrists. "I know you won't let this go," she told him, continuing even when he shook his head. "I_ know _you will cause chaos if the two of them ever_ do _get together for real. And so, my love," she said, tracing her thumbs over the inside of his wrists—softening the blow her words were going to deliver, "save these apologies for when you've hurt her and she is refusing to see your face."_

 _Harry's jaw slackened, and Ginny gave him a helpless, 'what can I do?' smile, before twisting in place and walking out of the room._

 _This time, Angelina was as enthusiastically involved with the discussion as Ginny had initially been. Smirking, she cocked her head to a side and cleared her throat. "Angelina, Ron," she said, pausing until she had their attention, "how about we have a little meeting, eh?" Ron's eyes lit up, and Angelina shrugged. That was good enough. "George, Audrey, Harry!" she yelled, satisfied to hear two grunts of acknowledgement and Harry's guilty face peeking out of the room. "We're having a Quidditch Strategy Planning session for Ron's tournament. Report to the dining room, you all!"_

 _With that, she quickly settled on the chair next to Angelina, and when he appeared before her, gave Harry a reassuring smile and accepted him on her other side._

* * *

 ** _Mwahaha!_** ** _Didn't see that coming, did you?_**

 ** _You've been picking the clues jo well, if you did. So. The next chapter's gonna be a huge one. In terms of the plot, I mean._**

 ** _Correct any mistakes if you spot 'em._**

 ** _xoxo,_**

 ** _Aishwarya!_**


	9. You've Gotta Be In My Life

**NOTE:** So I found the bullet points where I'd summed this story up, and suddenly had a burst of inspiration to continue this, despite all of the racist crap I'd received on this platform. So. I won't say "I'm back," because I'm not even sure if I'm gonna write the next chapter, but let's just say that I'll try to not let the negativity get to me. It's a new year, after all.

And, to all my beautiful readers who actually made me happy and inspired me to keep going: yayy, guys, I'm back!

Oops! I said it! Lmao.

Can you guys believe that I'd last updated this in March, last year? Omg, I've really been keeping away from this story...

Fun fact: This story was published on **Shawn Mendes' 17th birthday**! I mean. "Mercy" was released 10 days after this. He used to be a cute dork during Mercy/TYB days. And now he's a 19 years old man candy that everyone wants to lick. All the Mendes Army in the house yell: "SAY SWEAR TO GOD!" Lmao, if you get the reference, I love you.

So. Read on, and tell me if I've lost my touch. This chapter's extra tiny and might suck, tho, so... You've been warned.

HMU on Tumblr: **i-heart-hogwarts.**

* * *

 **9: You've Gotta Be in My Life**

* * *

"I tell you to clear the mess you've created, and you come back to tell me that the situation has _worsened_?" Lucius hollers, his voice echoing around the enormous sitting room, and Draco flinches from the wrath shining in his eyes.

He twiddles with his thumbs, aware that Lucius isn't going to like what he's about to say. "She's in _danger_ , father. Because of your assistant."

"Oh, _no_ , son. Certainly not. She's in danger because of _you_ ; because of your mistrust. All that has happened, has been because you let your insecurities get the better of you. You never trusted her love, Draco, fooling yourself with all that _I'll never deserve her_ crap," Lucius sneers at him, and Draco can only watch, rendered speechless by his father's outburst. "Did you ever try to talk to her about it? No, you didn't. Because you've always been too busy making assumptions – making stupid, reckless decisions that have finally landed you where you are. You were _so_ afraid of her rejection, that you didn't give the girl the _chance_ to love you."

Draco's shoulders slump. His father has hit the nail on the head. His insecurities – his freaking fear of rejection; fear that Hermione would one day realize that he was no good for her, that she could do _better_ , and leave him. He really never did give her a real chance.

"You were always waiting for things to go south, Draco," Lucius continues in a slightly softer tone. "You were waiting, like a coward, for one miniscule sign that could give you an excuse to blame her for having played you― _which_ , she never did. I honestly don't know what that girl saw in you, but she never shut her eyes to whatever it was. _You_ , on the other hand," he snaps, suddenly, his voice turning icy again, "grabbed on to the partial bits of the single side of a conversation that you eavesdropped on, and very grandly misinterpreted it. And then went on to exploit her worst weakness to cover your own."

Draco's takes in a stuttered breath. Merlin, what has he _done?_ "I was… I was going to propose―"

"Oh, yes, you were. I'm aware. But _did_ you?"

"What have I done, father?" He lets go of the filter between his head and heart, looking up at Lucius, cluelessly. He feels like he's sixteen again, standing before his raging father after having almost killed Potter―not too long after he'd indirectly landed Katie Bell and Ron Weasley in the Infirmary―taking out his frustration on the wrong person after having missed his target, again.

"You really need to ask me that, Draco?" Lucius scoffs. "You've destroyed the single, most beautiful thing that life had rewarded you with – someone's unconditional love. Which you clearly didn't deserve."

With a flourish of his robes, Lucius walks out of the sitting room, leaving Draco with a cold fireplace and an even colder heart.

* * *

" _I had a really good time, Hermione," Cormac McLaggen said to her, flashing her a brilliant smile. "And I mean that in the friendliest way possible."_

 _Hermione chuckled._

 _They'd just excited a Muggle, Italian restaurant after a friendly dinner, over which Hermione told him about her conversation with Angelina where she had revealed to Hermione that Ron's name among the list of applicants had been a mistake. Cormac was going to be appointed in the Ministry, pretty soon and despite their rocky past, Hermione was actually looking forward to having him around, in the same building._

 _Currently, they were strolling down the street, that Cormac's Muggle-born girlfriend lived at, just a street down the restaurant they'd been to. He was going to drop by her place, and Hermione would continue on to the Apparition point._

 _In response to his statement, she flashed him a teasing smirk. "You mean you've left your flirting days behind?"_

 _Cormac shrugged, looking straight ahead. "I mean, I could always bring them back if you'd prefer. But I must warn you that my girlfriend won't be too pleased about it."_

 _She laughed aloud, shaking her head. "Oh, no, please don't bring them back. I like this fun, friendly side of you so much better."_

 _Cormac gave her a single nod, although he was clearly repressing a smile._

" _I haven't really been in this part of the city, much," she confessed, looking around with interest. "The houses here are_ beautiful, _and… I don't know. Unlike any other part of Muggle London."_

 _Cormac nodded. "That would be because this particular street houses more wizards and witches than any other part of Muggle London."_

 _Hermione's brows shot up with interest. "Oh? And your girlfriend…?"_

" _Her father is a wizard, but mother a Muggle. She lives with her parents." Cormac pointed at a house across the street. "That's Maria's. Would you like to step in and meet her?"_

 _Hermione regretfully shook her head. "I'm already running late, Cormac, and I still have work tomorrow. Maybe some other day?"_

" _Alright, I'll see around, then," he said, leaning in to give her a side hug. "Good night, Hermione."_

 _Hermione patted his shoulder, returning the hug, and pulled back with a smile. "Come to see me, first thing, when you join. Good night, Cormac."_

 _Cormac smiled with a nod, before walking across the road._

 _With a sigh, Hermione proceeded to wrap her arms around herself and walk down the street._

" _This_ _**cannot**_ _be a simple coincident."_

 _Hermione jumped, looking to her left for the source of the voice that she―regrettably―recognized too well._

 _Draco Malfoy was exiting a house, almost directly across the street to Maria's, which looked slightly more grand than other houses around it._

" _Malfoy," Hermione said in greeting. Her good mood had made her feel courteous enough that she stopped, waiting for him to walk down the entryway and join her._

" _So. What are you doing here?" Malfoy questioned her when he came to stand next to her, his tone carrying an air of absolute normalcy – as if he they were two normal co-workers that had bumped into each other._

 _She wasn't feeling so courteous, anymore…_

* * *

 _Draco quickly walked down the entryway to Theo's apartment, in a rush to get to the brunette witch, who had―for some miraculous reason―not run off after greeting him._

" _So. What are you doing here?" he asked her, feeling all sorts of self-conscious and stupid about that question._

 _ **Salazar**_ _. What business did he have knowing why she was here? This wasn't Pansy. This was_ _**Hermione Granger**_ _._

 _She looked at him with almost as much discomfort as he felt. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved about it or get even more nervous._

 _He was slightly relieved when she proceeded to walk with him, without any protests._

" _I was… having dinner with a friend, just a street up."_

 _He was surprised that she answered, albeit with slight hesitance. "That's great. So…"_

 _She released a sigh, and he knew a lecture was coming his way. "Look, Malfoy," she began, but she sounded, surprisingly, a lot calmer than what he'd expected, "I might have gotten over what you did during our Hogwarts days, after the various apologies, but… looking at the kinds of interactions we've had in the recent past, I can pretty surely confirm that I don't_ _ **like**_ _you, either."_

 _Draco clicked his tongue, feeling like a complete arse. Well, he_ _**had**_ _been one, too._ _ **Just**_ _when he'd genuinely begun to appreciate the prospect of Hermione Granger, he found out that she hated him._

 _Although she didn't exactly say that, Draco was smart enough to understand the implication._

" _Oh. I, um," Draco fumbled with his speech, not really sure whether the next set of words he said would have any positive effects or just worsen the situation. "I was actually thinking that we could grab dinner together sometime and talk all our issues out."_

 _Her eyebrows rose in surprise, and Draco looked straight ahead. Luckily, the Apparition point was upon them so they wouldn't have to make any more of this awkward conversation._

" _Uh… I'll owl you?"_

 _Was she_ _**asking**_ _him?_

 _Holy hell, he should be thankful she hasn't straight away flipped him off!_

 _He nodded, reluctantly. "Sure, yeah. I'll be looking forward to it."_

 _Even though he knew that that owl wasn't going to come. Not in this life._

 _He felt like he should kiss her hand, or something, in farewell when they reached the Apparition point at the end of the street. But he knew not to push his luck._

 _Flashing him a tight, close lipped smile, Hermione Granger gripped her warm and held it before herself. And in seconds, she was gone._

 _Draco released a breath. He shouldn't have been feeling so freaking_ _ **downtrodden**_ _over this! What the hell was wrong with him?_

 _He hadn't even_ _ **really**_ _expected Granger to clear his schedule for him, the moment he put the proposal forth._

" _Damn it," he muttered under his breath, hating the depressive nature of his chain of thoughts, and gripped his own wand to Apparate out of there._

* * *

 ** _Drop a Review to indicate your interest in this. It might inspire me to finish this faster._**

 ** _Happy New Year, fam! ❤_**

 ** _xoxo,_**

 ** _A!_**


	10. Don't Want Us to Break Down

**NOTE:** I had this written for over a week, but didn't have enough stamina to proofread it. Pushed myself today, though, and here we are.

Here's a kind warning: there are some big reveals abt Draco, in here. But those shouldn't make you panic that he's being let off easy. The last chapter ( **#12** , btw) is a bombshell, and wait for that to go off before y'all begin tossing racial slurs at me again. (:

* * *

 **10: Don't Want Us to Break Down**

* * *

Hermione knows she should stop struggling against her bonds, physically. There's obviously some spellwork been done on the ties, and trying to get out of them with all the twisting and turning is only going to exhaust her – which would make her chances of escape even more sparse.

She knows all of that, _but_ her reflexes are on an autopilot because of how panicked she feels, and she can't get herself to stop fidgeting in the chair she's bound to.

"Are you quite done, Miss Granger?" drawls Rogers from the other corner of the room, sipping at some amber drink from a glass, as he reclines on a sofa. "Because I would really like to talk to you about why all this is happening, before we get to business."

Hermione hisses in frustration, thumping her head into the back of the chair. "What business? What the hell do you _want_ from me?" she spits out, and _finally_ forces herself to relax and not drain her strength out when she realizes how out of breath she already is.

Ricky Rogers laughs in a pure condescending manner, getting up to walk around the enormous bed in the center of the room. "You really don't remember me, do you?"

 _What?_

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "No, you don't, Hermione. Do you know why? Because you never deemed me worthy of your memory!"

Hermione blinks. Even though she _was_ somewhat clueless about why Rogers and Caterina would make such an elaborate plan to rope Draco in and destroy his reputation, she would never have guessed that any of this would involve her as more than just a bait. But this hatred displayed on Rogers' face makes it evident just how _much_ more involved she actually is.

"Let's go back in time, for a bit, shall we?" he asks her, settling down on the bed, right opposite to the chair she's tied to. "Do you remember your parents' Muggle house? The one you used to live in _before_ getting your Hogwarts letter?"

Hermione nods, slowly, totally unaware of where he is going with this.

"Good. Now. Do you also remember the kids you used to play with, in the park down the street?"

Hermione sucks in a breath, starting to get a picture, now. "You… were one of those kids…"

He smiles at her with an immense amount of loathing. "Oh, yes, I was. I was eight, you were six – I used to have a crush on you."

Hermione swallows, thickly. This is going to get ugly…

"We used to take the swings, together, play catch together – do everything that kids do together when they get along well. I used to love it. I was too young to understand it, but in my head, you were my girlfriend."

Hermione holds back a grimace. Honestly? This would be cute if it didn't come from this man. But because it did, Hermione can only feel creeped out by his younger self that her own younger self probably trusted a lot.

"Well, at least till I turned eleven and received my Hogwarts invitation."

Hermione frowns. "But―"

"I'm a squib? I know, but my family was one of the richest families in Wizarding London. That is why I lived with a Muggle friend of some aunt's, in your neighborhood. My mother―she didn't want me to grow up to become the snob my father would have turned mere into, if he got the chance."

He looks down, at his feet, and frowns. "At least that's what she told _me_. I think she always knew I didn't have magic… But she still pulled some strings and got a Professor from Hogwarts to take me in. She believed that something was blocking me, and that staying at Hogwarts and learning magic properly would resolve it. But it didn't…"

Hermione is almost holding her breath. Notwithstanding the fact he has kidnapped her, she almost feels sorry for what he has gone through. No wonder he ended up becoming the douchebag he is.

"I was sent back, a year later. Everyone at Hogwarts knew I was a squib. I was laughed at, made fun of, and then expelled… because I wasn't meant to be there."

Hermione looks away when he looks up at her.

"I came back to your neighborhood, enraged for multiple reasons. One of them being why you hadn't responded to any of my letters."

Hermione shuts her eyes, briefly, not being able to understand why she cannot recall _anything_ about such a, supposedly, close friend that she had. He doesn't look like he's lying.

"I didn't talk to you, even when you visited my house, pleading Miss Gemma to let you see me."

She looks up, suddenly, remembering Miss Gemma very clearly. "I do remember Miss Gemma. But…"

"But not me," he slowly finishes, lips twisting in a wry smile. "I forgave you, after some time, though. A week before you received your letter, I told you I loved you. You told me you did, too. We were the cutest couple ever; not even properly teenagers yet, and so in love. But then…"

But then she received the letter and went away. Hermione purses her lips. Even if that had happened, she _did_ visit her parents every year. She went back to that same neighborhood, almost every Christmas, regularly, and even met Miss Gemma, many times.

"You really can't figure it out, can you?" Rogers asks, surprisingly looking _hopeless_ , this time.

She slowly shakes her head, terribly wound up and confused. Not to mention the fierce headache that she's brought up by all the pressure she's put on her mind.

Rogers nods to himself. "Well… you can't recall anything about me, because your memories of me were wiped off."

Hermione jaw drops open. " _What_? How―did _you_ ―"

"I couldn't _have_ , Hermione." He waves a dismissive hand. "Squib, remember?"

She grits her teeth. "Didn't stop you from petrifying and silencing me when I came in. Maybe you had someone erase my memories, too!" She tilts her head towards the door that Caterina stands guarding.

Rogers suddenly seems to get serious, and, shockingly, _saddened_. "I would never, _ever_ have done it, Hermione. You tell me. Why would I want you to forget that you loved me?"

Now, although she's not too keen about the "love" he's talking about, Hermione agrees with his logic. If he's so torn about her having forgotten about him, it won't make sense if he was the one to do it in the first place.

"You do remember Severus Snape, don't you?"

Hermione gingerly nods, not sure if she wants to hear the next part. But, what choice does she even have?

"He paid you a visit on the 31st of August. And he took you away from me…"

He looks at her forlornly, and Hermione doesn't know what to say. "How… how do you know it was him?" she finally asks. "Why would he do it?"

"My mother wanted it done. She wanted every person in the Wizarding World to forget about my existence, so that the family's reputation was saved from disgrace. My own father doesn't know I exist. I used to have a little brother… he was made to forget about me, too. Only my mother and Snape knew… and now even he's gone."

Hermione can at least understand the pounding in her head, now. She'd been trying to recall an Obliviated memory – one that an expert like Snape had erased.

"What sort of mother would do that," she mumbles, not meaning to say it aloud, but doesn't take it back when Rogers scoffs.

"Someone that cares about her prestige more than her own family. Someone like Narcissa Malfoy."

Hermione's head snaps back, a loud gasp leaving her mouth. No. No, no, no.

 _Oh God,_ no!

"Narcissa… Malfoy…" she breathes out, wide eyes looking at Rogers' defeated face. "Draco's mother?"

Rogers flashes her a tight smile. "That would be her."

"You're… Draco's older… _brother_?"

"His _disowned_ brother, but yes."

He falls silent then, and she is immensely grateful. What the _hell_ is all this?!

Lucius and Narcissa had a son before Draco, who Narcissa found out to be non-magical, and hence she sent away.

Wait. When he said "aunt's Muggle friend," did he mean for Miss Gemma to be Andromeda Tonks' friend? Probably.

Hermione exhales in disbelief. She knew the Malfoy family used to be way too assiduous about the purity of magical blood―oh _she_ experienced it firsthand, worse than anybody else―but this reveal has just taken it to another level.

She looks up at Rogers, lips pursed. "I'm really, _really_ sorry about all this, Ricky." She stops. "If… that _is_ your original name."

He shakes his head. "It is, now. I don't want anything to do with that family. And I don't want the name they gave me, either."

Hermione nods, feeling more relaxed, now that she knows that this kidnapping is, after all, about the Malfoys. She eases in her seat. "Why did you kidnap me, Ricky? Why make this elaborate plan to take down Draco Malfoy, when you know he doesn't even have feelings for me, anymore?"

"He has feelings for you, alright." Hermione swallows, trying but failing to stop her brain from conjuring up a picture from the night she'd seen him half naked with Caterina. "What you saw that night, was the result of Caterina's manipulative words… and a sample of a pain numbing Potion that his company has been working on. It wasn't perfect, and the side effects included heightened emotions and feelings. The heartbreak you gave him by your chat with Ginny Weasley was felt by him tenfold."

Hermione stares wide-eyed. Draco was _tricked_? She doesn't feel that sympathetic about this estranged Malfoy, anymore.

"What's more, I and Caterina had been feeding my younger brother a little amount of the Potion, for a week. Poor guy, no one around him even suspected that he was being weird, because everyone pinned it on his nervousness about the proposal." He stops, shaking his head in what seems like mock sympathy to her. "But, anyways. He isn't why you're here. You're here, because you're _you_ , Hermione."

Hermione can feel her throat closing up. So this _is_ about her? "What are you going to do, now?"

Rogers flashes her a crooked smile. " _Now_ , I'm going to try and retrieve your memories of me. And because I can't do it magically," he says before pausing to extract a small briefcase from beneath the bed, "I'm going to need assistance from these Potions… and a little physical force, if need be."

Hermione draws in a breath. She is going to concentrate on her magical core and get the _hell_ out of her bonds. This man has lost his mind, and she has no idea what she's going to end up being turned into, if he gets things done his way.

* * *

 _Draco knocked at the door, looking at the plaque with envy. Okay, he_ _ **might**_ _have managed to make peace with his position at his father's company, but the fact remained that he'd lost a Ministry position to Hermione Granger._

' _ **Senior Analyst, The Advertisement Department**_ _,' read the plaque, beneath the brunette's name._

" _Come in!"_

 _Draco jumped at the sharp call, before he quickly cleared his throat and entered the office._

 _Hermione's head was bent over a colorful parchment – which didn't look like a traditional parchment, actually. He took a better look, and realized that it looked more like that Muggle, synthesized material – the name of which, he always forgot._

" _Draco!"_

 _Draco jumped again, and then he did a double take. Hermione's own eyes widened a second later, and he knew she'd realized it, too._

 _She called him by his first name._

 _A silly grin broke out on his face. "_ _ **Draco**_ _, eh? When did we get to the first-name basis?"_

 _Hermione, predictably, rolled her eyes. "What do you want?" She pointed at the non-parchments before her. "I'm working."_

" _I can see that," Draco said, nodding, and walked down to her desk. Plopping down in a chair, he narrowed his eyes at her. "And I'm supposing you've been working for_ _ **two weeks**_ _straight?"_

 _Draco hadn't expected her to feel guilty, but by the way she winced―biting her lower lip, and making his imagination run―he suspected an apology coming his way. Another thing he hadn't expected._

" _You were never_ _ **going to**_ _owl me, were you?" he slowly asked, trying his best to not let the hurt show._

 _But it probably did, because she immediately shut her eyes, exhaling. "I'm sorry, Draco, I was just…"_

 _She looked around her office, helplessly, and Draco let out a humorless chuckle. "You were busy, I get it."_

 _Honestly, why did he ever think that she would take the offer up?_ _ **Why**_ _would she want to dine with him, after their rocky past and his douche-like behaviour ever since they got in contact again?_

 _Salazar, he was_ _ **stupid**_ _._

 _He made to stand, but she jumped up, too, before he could have straightened._

 _He looked at her panicked face, questioningly, and she shook her head as if she was brushing thoughts off. "How about lunch?"_

 _His eyes snapped open wider in surprise. "For real?"_

 _She passed him an evidently hesitant smile. "Yeah."_

 _He grinned back. "Sure! Now?"_

 _She replied with a playful, "Sure." She quickly grabbed her wand from somewhere behind her desk and swished it. The next moment, her desk was being set._

" _Your venue or mine?" he questioned her, thinking about that awesome Italian food joint near Theo's place, that he was sure was going to impress the heck out of her._

" _Why don't you just hold tight?" she asked him, taking him by surprise._

 _He shrugged, stepping towards her, and wrapped his hand around hers. Then she was Apparating, taking him side-along, and they ended up outside―_

" _Would you believe me if I told you that I was about to bring you here, too?" he asked her, laughing, as they walked into the Italian restaurant._

 _Hermione smiled at him, this time more easily than all the previous times. "Yes, I would. I'd met you down a few streets, that day."_

 _He let her choose a table, and slid in opposite her. "Yes, I was visiting a friend. You remember Theo Nott from school?"_

 _She frowned, pausing in the process of picking up the menu. "Nott lives_ _ **here**_ _? Wasn't he some sort of a millionaire after the fortunes his ancestors left him?"_

 _Draco smiled, wryly. "Yes, he is. He's had some adjustments made to his apartment―including an expansion spell, mind you―such that the interior of the place rivals a mansion."_

 _Hermione arched her eyebrows, but said nothing. She pointed to a dish on the menu. "I won't read it aloud, because I know I'll mispronounce it," she said, causing him to laugh aloud, "but I do insist that you try this, if you haven't before."_

 _Draco looked at it, and smiled. "Cacciucco. Oh. It's an Italian fish stew, it's amazing."_

" _So you_ _ **have**_ _had it before." She sounded disgruntled._

 _Draco rolled his eyes. "Doesn't mean I can't have it_ _ **again**_ _, Granger."_

 _Her eyes snapped up to meet his. At first, she looked surprised―not exactly_ _**pleasantly**_ _surprised, either―but then she wiggled her eyebrows, mischievously, and he knew she'd masked her original thoughts. "I thought we were on first-name basis?"_

 _Draco leant back in seat, crossing his arms, and squinted at her. "I actually refer to you in my head by your first name. But to your face, Granger feels more natural."_

 _She simply shook her head, laughing._

 _Draco was about to explain further, but stopped short when a waiter walked up to them._

" _Hello, sir. Madam. Hope you're having a good day. Are you ready to order, yet?" the younger looking bloke asked them._

 _Hermione's eyes flashed to Draco, eyebrows raised up. "Um…"_

 _He grinned at her. "Yes, we are."_

* * *

Harry gets up from crouching next to the fireplace, perspiration on his forehead and a hell lot of worries inside it.

"I just got off a floo call from Molly," he informs everyone. "Arthur is on his way, here. Kingsley – what's the update?"

"Lucius found the details of Caterina's wand from the papers she'd submitted when she took the job," Kingsley begins, pointing at the blond man who seems to be casting spell after spell on something Harry can't see, "and he's been trying to track its last magical activity. Robards is sending troops down to her apartment in Diagon, even though I have no real hopes from that approach."

Harry steps towards Kingsley's desk, nodding, and points at the letter in Mafalda Hopkirk's hands. "Anything, Hopkirk?"

The blonde woman clicks her tongue in response, shaking her head. "For a tramp, this Caterina woman is way too sharp with concealing spells."

Harry rolls his eyes, frustrated beyond belief. _These_ are the Ministry's elite forces? They were firing shots in the dark if they couldn't figure out the details about the letter Caterina wrote. They knew, for a fact, that she wasn't working alone, and Harry felt that the identity of her partner was extremely crucial.

Kingley slips past him, heading to the door. "You take charge, here, Harry, and I'll check up on Robards and those troops."

Harry simply nods in response.

"Miss Weasley!"

Harry jumps, twisting in place, and releases a low grunt of irritation when Narcissa Malfoy flies into the office.

"Missus Malfoy," Ginny mumbles, darting a panicked glance his way, before she gets up to address a frantic Narcissa. "What are―"

"What," Narcissa cuts her off, and hearing the bite in her tone, Harry takes a cautious step towards them, "in Salazar's name were your and Miss Granger _talking about_?"

Harry stops, blinking at the absurd question the woman has asked. But judging by grimace on his girlfriend's face, it is probably not that absurd to her.

"Harry!"

Harry's head snaps in the direction of Ron's voice. "Did you find something?" he questions, immediately walking up to the haggard redhead. "Ron?" Harry presses when he doesn't receive a response.

"There's too much wand-work done in that room to trace any footprints," Blaise Zabini glumly informs him, walking into the office after Ron.

" _What_? Come on, Zabini, you can't be serious!" he exclaims, incredulously, wanting to punch someone out of disgruntlement.

"Mate, I know, but…" Zabini trails off, shrugging.

Muffled sobs draw his attention, and Harry's eyes widen to find Padma weeping. "I can't―I can't find a _single thing_! Some best friend, I am!"

"Padma―"

"Potter." Zabini stops him. "Let _me_."

Raising his brows, Harry steps back, letting the dark skinned wizard pass.

"Oh, Godric, what the hell do we _do_?" Ron mumbles, next to him, chewing on a nail as he starts pacing next to Kingsley's desk. "We scanned the entire room and all we could detect was _jumbles_!"

"As are the details of her wand's spellwork. But, Mister Potter," Lucius Malfoy announces, walking up to join the two wizards, "I _did_ discover that Caterina last used her wand in that room. Miss Granger's office, I mean."

Harry turns to look at Ron and then at Zabini over Padma's head, but the wizards are already looking at each other with matching, guilty looks. "We were too late," Ron mumbles, shaking his head with obvious self-reproach.

Harry steps forward and squeezes Ron's shoulder. "It's not your fault."

"Of course it isn't, Mister Potter. It is my son's fault."

Harry looks up at Narcissa in surprise, to find the woman looking at him with red-rimmed eyes and a whole lot of guilt on her face. Next to her, Ginny looks like she's at the verge of tears, too.

Harry quickly walks over and engulfs his girlfriend in a hug. Quietly, he murmurs to her, "I'd like to know about that conversation, too." Ginny tenses against him, but he holds her tighter. "You tear up every single time it is brought up… please, tell me what happened, Gin."

"We were talking about _Rogers_ , Harry… you know how much she hates him…" Ginny breathlessly tells him between restrained sobs. "And―and that idiot _Malfoy_ thought we were talking about _him_! That arse, he misinterpreted everything… and didn't even talk about it!"

Harry's gut churns at Rogers' name, for some reason. A prickly feeling climbs up his back.

He looks around, and suddenly frowns. "Where the fuck is _Malfoy_?"

* * *

 _Where the fuck is he, indeed?_

 _Thoughts?_

 _xo, Ash!_


End file.
